Under the Black Flag: The 51st Annual Hunger Games
by IronManRidingaNimbus
Summary: In a Games where the Arena itself may present the biggest challenge, which tribute can survive the wrath of the harshest elements? Which tribute can survive under the Black Flag?
1. Chapter 1 Starting Anew

**You can skip the disclaimer unless you want to sue me for millions of Pounds, Dollars, Euros, Pesos, Yen, Francs, Galleons, Drachma, Camels, Cows, Chickens or Goats. Or steal my things. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor it's characters. These are the property of Suzanne Collins, and this story is purely fan-fiction and should not be considered canonical in any way. Furthermore, should Suzanne Collins wish me to remove the story I will do so. **

**Original characters created by me, e.g. Celia Torrent, are owned by me and are not to be used in works by any other author. All original settings created by me fall under the same rule. Original content from my website and profile, e.g. TribuTrack® or my Submission Form, are not to be copied or replicated in any way. Failure to comply with these rules will see a plagiarism complaint filed against you.**

**Further guidelines regarding other characters can be found on the official IronMantheAuthor website. **

**Iron Man. **

* * *

**1.**

**Starting Anew. **

* * *

"I want you to take all the necessary precautions Celia. We cannot have a repeat of what happened last year. District 12 winning the Games was embarrassing enough, but winning the Games by accident? It was outrageous," President Snow sat, agitated, in a large leather chair in his Private Office. The white rose buttoned to his jacket was beginning to wilt. About time, it had been on his collar for weeks. Celia Torrent shifted under his gaze, clearly nervous about the task before her. She had been assigned the occupation of Head Gamemaker two days previously, the first female to land the prestigious position.

Her predecessor, like many before, had met his end shortly after his Games had finished. The President had gambled on the advice of his staff, and approved Celia's promotion in the hope a woman may do a better job of running the Games. Certainly, she would be hard pushed to do worse than the man she was replacing. Not only had he designed a flawed arena, he had allowed those flaws to be exploited. The Capitol could not be seen to have any weaknesses.

"I can assure you it will not happen this year sir. The winner will be he or she who deals the killing blow. No accidents," she told her leader, hoping that what she said was true.

"Good," the President replied in a cool tone, "An interesting design you have submitted for this years arena. Costly, and it could prove difficult to complete in time, especially this close to the Reapings. But I believe the entertainment value that lies in such a unique area will soon have the citizens of Panem forgetting the disaster of last years Quarter Quell."

"I agree sir. Action should be easy to come by, but creativity will also come into play," Celia's eyes lit up at the slight praise. She was so young, naïve, and full of ambition. Being Head Gamemaker was no easy task. No need for President Snow to remind her; she would find out soon enough.

"Let us hope that this years Games are a success," President Snow smiled, but it did not disguise the tone of warning in his voice, "Now go and begin preparations Celia, I do not wish to take up more of your time."

"Thank you sir. I will begin immediately," she assured him. Again, the smile on Snow's face did not conceal the order to leave.

* * *

Haymitch Abernathy sat at the dining table of his house in Victors Village, District 12. The 51st Annual Hunger Games. Almost a year after the second Quarter Quell. Almost a year since Haymitch himself was the Victor. Not that he felt like much of a winner. Two weeks after the Games, the Capitol had killed his girlfriend. His mother too, and his younger brother. Winning the Games hadn't given him much cause for celebration. Now he would have to mentor this years tributes.

Not that he would be much use as a mentor. What was he going to tell the dirty-faced, impoverished, sad children presented to him on Reaping Day? Don't use the Arena to your advantage. Don't anger the Capitol or your family will be killed. Do that and you should be fine, until one of the careers kill you. That wasn't very encouraging advice, and Haymitch knew it. Truthfully, Haymitch couldn't remember half of what he did in the Arena. Most of his time was spent walking, trying to find the end. He did eventually find the end, and it eventually led to his victory.

Victory had come at a huge cost though. He'd lost his family, his girlfriend. Even a year later he still mourned the loss of his ally in the arena, Maysilee Donner. Recently he had started turning to alcohol. The poison his father used to drink when he came home from work each night, tired and covered in coal dust. Haymitch had avoided it all his life, but now he saw little point. His family was dead and because he was a victor he didn't have to work. Most of his time was spent trying to block out memories of the events that took place inside the arena. When he realised he couldn't block them out, he started drowning them in liquor instead.

* * *

Effie Trinket sat at her dresser powdering her nose. It was her first year as an escort; she had been looking forward to it. Well, until they had assigned her to District 12, the poorest District in all of Panem. Their spirits might be riding high after winning the second Quarter Quell, but Effie was certain they wouldn't win two years in a row. Anyways, she would much rather have been assigned to District 1. The place where all of the Capitol's clothes were made.

She could imagine herself, dressed in the latest trends, fresh from the factories. Strolling up to the Justice Building, glancing out at the entire district's beautiful, willing faces. She had visualized reaching her hand into the reaping bowl and barely uttering the name on the card she had selected before a voice rang out "I volunteer as Tribute!" She would give them a short interview on the podium, and usher them into the waiting rooms so their families could wish them luck.

Unfortunately she wouldn't be doing that. Effie Trinket would be rushing through District 12, ascending the grubby platform, looking out at those sad, filthy faces. She'd put on a smile and read the names from the Reaping Bowls. Two disheartened children would walk out of the crowd, wearing the face of someone being carried to their death. In truth, they probably were. But they had a chance to fight, to survive. Very few of the tributes from District 12 ever took that chance properly. Two actually. Haymitch Abernathy was one of those two. He was better known as the broken victor of the second Quarter Quell.

* * *

_'When things go disastrously wrong, sometimes the only way they can be fixed is to start anew.'_

* * *

**A/n:**

**Thank you for reading the first chapter of Under the Black Flag!**

**I hope you've enjoyed reading it, and that you continue reading the further chapters. If you could spare a minute or two to leave me a review, and tell me what you think of my writing, it would be much appreciated. Much as I love hearing how wonderful my writing is, I also welcome constructive criticism that will help me improve as an author. Flaming - over-harsh criticism or hatred with the sole intention of causing offence - won't be tolerated. **

**Thank for reading! Enjoy, **

**Iron Man. **


	2. Chapter 2 Let the Games Begin!

**2\. **

**Let the Games Begin**

* * *

Caesar checked his reflection in the mirror one more time. After all, he had to look good for the Capitol. He had to put on a good show. Today would be the start of his 12th year as Master of Ceremonies, a vital part of the Games. Why, without him there would be no show. Not that the Hunger Games was about him. No, instead it was about the 24 brave Tributes who would step into the Arena. Deep down Caesar pitied them. None of them were around at the time of the uprising, yet they paid the price for it. It was sad really, that's why he always did his best to make the Tributes feel comfortable during his interviews. It wasn't much, but it was all he could do.

Caesar straightened his tie, making sure it was perfect. His now trademark blue suit gleamed in font of the mirror. He had chosen a deep sea-green colour for his hair this year. It was getting harder to be original. Many years ago, Caesar had begun to colour his hair, to keep the public interested in him. Now he was expected to come up with a new colour every year. He chuckled silently to himself. The things he did to entertain people. Caesar stood waiting, hidden behind a curtain at the side of a large studio. There was a large desk in the centre of the room, where he would sit with Claudius Templesmith and discuss the upcoming Games while the Capitol eagerly awaited the Reapings.

Claudius was already out there, warming up the live audience. Caesar readied himself as Claudius announced in his booming voice, "And now, citizens of Panem! Please welcome the Voice of the Games! The Vision in Blue! The Master of Ceremonies! Caesarrrr Flickerrrmannn!" The audience applauded and cheered as Caesar bounded onto the stage.

"Hello!" Caesar spread his arms wide as the audience cheered him on. He mocked embarrassment and patted his hair a little, pointing out the new colour. "How is everyone?" The audience cheered back excitedly. "It's an exciting day isn't it?" The audience gave a mixture of cheers and shouts of 'yes!'

"It is, it's an exciting day," Caesar continued, "It's Reaping Day! Today is the day we get to find out which Tributes will get to represent their District, in the 51st Annual… Hunger Games!" The audience gave another loud cheer of approval. "But first, we have a message from someone very special!" The audience weren't expecting that, and could be heard muttering excitedly amongst themselves. Caesar let this continue for a moment before announcing, "Ladies and Gentlemen, a special message from our new Head Gamemaker, Celia Torrent!" The audience gave a slightly confused round of applause. Gamemakers occasionally gave speeches, but they were usually known for skulking around behind the scenes, thinking up new ways to punish Tributes for no reason.

The air behind Caesar shimmered, and the figure of Celia Torrent materialized from empty space. It was a hologram, but it was still an impressive entrance. Celia's blonde hair blew gently, wherever she was, there must have been a light breeze. Her cold, piercing blue eyes surveyed the audience before her. She spread her hands in a wide gesture. "Eternal glory!" Her sharp voice boomed across the studio, causing some of the audience to recoil in their seats. If Caesar was honest, she scared him a little bit. She was a very powerful woman, despite her slight frame. Caesar smiled as she continued. "That's what awaits he or she who walks out of the Arena at the end of the Hunger Games!" The audience gave a hearty cheer, more out of fear than anything else. "But such glory, such honour, is not attainable without sacrifice. Every Tribute who sets foot inside this year's Arena will be tested to the very limits of humanity. In mind, body and spirit, they will be tested. Only the strongest Tribute will survive, only one Tribute will live to call themselves Victor, of the 51st Annual Hunger Games!"

A much more sincere cheer broke from the audience. "Of course, before that happens, we must first choose who will represent each District! Mr. Templesmith if you please." Celia's hologram turned and gestured Claudius Templesmith to take centre stage. Claudius seemed to forget himself for a moment, but he nodded curtly and trotted closer to Celia's hologram, looking undeniably terrified of the woman.

"Citizens of Panem!" He raised his voice, "Let the Games begin!" A large cheer, and a standing ovation followed Claudius's simple words. Fireworks could be heard outside, though they would only be faintly visible as the morning sun began to rise over the Capitol. Right now, the Districts would be rising from their slumber and beginning to make their way to their Justice Buildings for the Reapings.

"Thank you Mr. Templesmith," Celia's voice cut clearly over the applause, quickly silencing the room. "Now, I must attend to my duties. Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour." Celia's form shimmered, and her hologram dispersed with a puff of mist. The audience gave their loudest cheer of the morning, probably glad to be rid of the Head Gamemaker. _May the odds be ever in your favour._ Stupid thing to say in the Capitol really, the odds were always in their favour. Caesar gave the crowd another smile, and took his seat next to Claudius at the large desk. Claudius was still shaky from his encounter with the Head Gamemaker.

* * *

_'Eternal glory! That's what awaits her or she who walks out of the Arena at the end of Hunger Games!' _

**A/N:**

**So, my plan was to start writing the Reapings... and then this accidentally happened... What do you guys think?**

**Iron Man.**


	3. Chapter 3 Volunteers - District 1 & 2

**3\. **

**Volunteers. **

After the frightening encounter with the Head Gamemaker, Caesar took his seat and waited for the rest of the cameras to begin rolling. The Capitol had merely been treated to a pre-show, a screen test if you will. Now, Caesar's face would be broadcast throughout Panem as the Reapings began. The Capitol Seal appeared on the screens behind him, the main cameraman made motions with his hands, _five, four, three, two, and one. _Music played as the cameras panned over the studio audience. "Hello Citizens of Panem!" Caesar beamed widely at the camera in front of him, "and welcome to Reaping Day!"

"Over the course of the next few hours two Tributes, one male, one female, shall be selected to represent each of their Districts in the 51st Annual Hunger Games!" The audience cheered on Caesar's cue. "Joining me in the studio as always, my long term friend and broadcast partner, Claudius Templesmith!" The audience cheered and Claudius waved a hand and bowed his head. "Now, anticipation is surely high for these Games as they come one year after a marvelous Quarter Quell. Only adding to the excitement is the arrival of our new Head Gamemaker, who our studio audience was privileged to have met this morning. She gave us a good fright, but she promised us an interesting Games."

"That she did," Claudius took over, "and someone who knows all about interesting Games is our first guest this morning. Ladies and gentleman please welcome our guest at this time, Jasmine Silk, victor of the 49th Hunger Games!" The audience whooped and cheered as a perky brunette, now aged 20 stepped out from behind the curtain, smiled, and took a seat in between Caesar and Claudius.

"Jasmine! How lovely to see you again," Caesar kissed the young woman's hand, "and I must say you look stunning this morning!"

"Thank you Caesar," Jasmine accepted the compliment graciously, "you're looking rather fetching yourself, new hair colour?"

"Thank you for noticing," Caesar joked, he was famous for his ever-changing hair colour, "But of course, we aren't here to give each other compliments all day, easy as that may be." The audience gave a chuckle. "Now of course, you won the 49th games in a vey inventive fashion. Now I don't know about any of you, "Caesar gestured to the audience, "but my heart leapt into my throat at the same time you leapt off of that balcony!"

The audience gave a loud cheer. Jasmine had been the fan favourite during her Games. She had won by leaping from a 3rd floor balcony, dual-wielding a pair of Bowie Knives, and landing on the District 2 male, blades first. "Well," Jasmine laughed, "you should try it, I guarantee you the feeling was pretty similar." Caesar mocked being terrified.

"I think I'll leave that to the professionals. So, are you excited for this years Games?"

"Absolutely!" Jasmine perked up. "Scary as she seems, I remember Celia Torrent when she was a Senior Gamemaker in my own Games. She was incredibly observant during Training; I guarantee that she'll be just as attentive as Head Gamemaker."

"So we can expect good things from our new head Gamemaker?" Claudius asked, speaking for the first time since Jasmine had entered.

"Absolutely." Jasmine replied with certainty, "she's also very creative so expect the..."

"I'm so sorry Jasmine, I'm going to have to stop you there," Caesar cut in, "as we go live to the Reapings in District 1." Jasmine nodded, and everyone turned to one of the screens in the studio. The image on screen showed the Justice Building in District 1. They were always the best-organised District on Reaping Day, followed closely by Districts 2 and 4. District 1's Escort, Flavius Trenté, stood ready to draw a name from both of the Reaping Bowls.

"Let's start with the boys shall we?" Flavius tucked a stray lock of purple hair behind his ear as he reached into the Reaping Bowl with his left hand, "Jack Banastre!" Flavius announced loudly. A good-looking, muscular boy emerged from the 18 year olds section, amid loud cheers. It struck Caesar as odd that nobody had volunteered yet, but his mind soon caught up. Against all odds, the Career Academy's chosen Tribute had been Reaped. There would be no volunteers. Jack shook hands with Flavius, and District 1's Mentors before waving happily to the crowd. He wore a smug smirk on his face, and cocked his eyebrow slightly as the breeze swept through his dark brown hair.

"Excellent!" Flavius beamed, "and now for the girls!" Flavius reached his hand into the second Reaping bowl and pulled out a small slip of paper. "Emma…"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" A voice rang crystal clear across the gathering in District 1.

"Please," Flavius gestured towards the stage he was standing on, "come on up." A stunning blonde girl emerged from the 18 year olds section and began striding purposefully towards the stage. She received many whistles and plenty of remarks about her chest size, all of which she brushed off and climbed the stairs onto the stage. "Tell us, what is your name?"

"Judith Anastasia Meridian." The girls brown eyes scanned the crowd.

"And what, Judith, was your reason for volunteering as Tribute?"

"That's obvious," Judith replied, "I want to win the Games."

* * *

"Well there we go!" Caesar announced as the TV broadcast returned to the studio, "We now have our Tributes from District 1! Jack Banastre, and Judith Anastasia Meridian! Jasmine, what are your thoughts?" The pretty girl on Caesar's right hand side spoke again.

"Well Caesar, we have two strong, good-looking Tributes that are sure to attract sponsors. That's exactly what we've come to expect from District 1, and we can also expect the odds to be ever in their favour." Caesar suppressed a chuckle at Jasmine's reference to the Career system. The Districts of Panem weren't strictly allowed to enter Tributes that had been trained their whole life for the Games, but the Capitol had turned a blind eye for a good 40 years now. Though Caesar imagined that if the outer Districts started to open Training Academies like Districts 1, and 2, the Capitol would soon shut them down.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Caesar grinned, "and now Jasmine, you're sure to be excited, as we're ready to head right over to your hometown, District 2!" The cameras panned out as Caesar spoke, the Panem Seal flashed briefly on the screen, and District 2's Justice Building came into view. The mountainous landscape was a wonderful sight, though they were only given a brief glance before the camera zoomed in on Kiara Night, District 2's escort. "Fantastic!" Kiara gestured at the screen behind her, the propaganda video had just finished, "Now, the Reapings!" She reached into the first Reaping Bowl, as always with first two Districts the boys were Reaped first. It was less hassle that way. "Illias Martell!" A cheer rose from the District 2 crowd, and just as in District 1, there was no Volunteer. Twice in one day the Academy's chosen Tribute had been Reaped. Astonishing. A boy of 18 stepped out. He had a fairly gaunt face, and his eyes were glassy and wet, his dark hair an unruly mess. But he was somewhat muscular, and he walked with a puffed out chest and a smirk on his face. He looked right at home in the Career District. Kiara shook his hand and gave him a short interview. He seemed confident enough.

"And now the girls!" Kiara announced, "Helen…"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" Just as in District 1, the voice cut clear across the crowd. Kiara beckoned the young girl up onto the stage. She was 17, and by the looks on the District Mentors' faces, shouldn't have volunteered. Kiara asked for the girls name and she gave it proudly, "Jadeline Amber Lockheart, but you can call me Jade." The girl seemed very sure of herself, and Caesar could understand why. She had a slender, toned body. Her curves were in all the right places, and her brown hair set off her stormy grey eyes perfectly. She had volunteered because of her sister, who had come third in the previous Games. A touching story, but not much of a reason to voluntarily march to your death Caesar thought.

* * *

"So," Caesar began, "your hometown Jasmine, how do you think District 2 stack up so far?" The girl seemed to consider this for a long moment, flicking a stray lock of chestnut hair back behind her ear. Snapping out of her deep thought, Jasmine gave a slightly rehearsed response.

"At this stage, I think it's a little too early to tell. We've certainly produced two fine Tributes, as we usually seem to do, but District 1 has done just as well. We can predict that District 4 _will_ produce a strong pair, who've been built up by fishing every day, the wildcard in the first four District's is always District 3." Jasmine smiled at Caesar before finishing, "it'll be interesting to see which kind of Tributes they produce this year." Already on the large screen behind Caesar, odds were being given on the first four Tributes' chances in the Games. The highest rated was Judith Anastasia Meridian, she'd been given odds of 4/1. It wasn't uncommon at this stage, but the bookmakers seemed exceptionally confident in the District 1 girl.

* * *

_'Noble and just, or hiding ulterior motives? What convinces a child to Volunteer for death?'_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Heyy guys! **

**The Reapings are underway! I know this might not be the format everyone is used to, and some of you might think that your Tribute has merely been glanced over but I don't want you to worry. Every Tribute will get their moment to shine, even the Sacrificial Lambs. I just do things a different way, and I also hate Reapings. They're long and tedious and we didn't have to go through 12 of them in Suzanne Collins's books. Rest assured I will write 2 District's per chapter though, so nobody gets cut! **

**Now, a few things. 1, I still need more Mentors! A few District's have already chosen a Mentor, and that's great! But I'm disappointed to hear that a few of you don't care about the Mentor system, or who Mentors your District. It's a little disrespectful to the Mentors who are excited to work with you guys, and _will _be a huge help to you in these Games. A good Tribute/Mentor combo is going to get you further in UtBF, as it's such a complex Games. **

**Now I leave you with 2 questions. Do you want me to write the train rides? Do you want Jasmine to stay on as Caesar's guest for District's 3 &amp; 4 or should I bring in a new Victor? I will be bringing another guest in for D5-8's Reapings. **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Iron Man.**

**Thanks to RJB4, DryBonesKing, LokiThisisMadness and Sizzyforever8 for Jack, Judith, Illias and Jade. **


	4. Chapter 4 Personal Reasons - D3 & 4

**4\. **

**Personal Reasons**

* * *

Caesar allowed a yawn to escape him as the show cut to a commercial break. He sighed; he was only two Districts in, there we ten more to go. The Reapings were probably his least favourite part of the Games. The first couple of Districts were fine, because it signified the start of the Games. But then they became rather boring and repetitive. He wouldn't mind skipping the entire thing, but it was part of his job. "Live in 45," the show's Producer announced. Caesar quickly produced a pocket-mirror, adjusted his hair, and put on his smile. The Cameraman on his left signaled with his had. _Three, two, one._

"Hello, and welcome back! We've just had the Reapings from District's 1 and 2, and we're currently awaiting District 3 to show on our screens. As you can see," Caesar gestured to his right, "the lovely Jasmine is still with us in the studio. You'll be with us till the District 4 Reaping has finished Jasmine?"

"That's right," Jasmine smiled, "I can't wait to see what District 4 has to offer! We don't get much news in District 2, but since I arrived back in the Capitol, all I've heard about is how well District 4 are going to do this year." The girl gave a curious shrug. Claudius weighed in on the subject.

"Yes, District 4 seem to be this years favourite. But then, last years favourite to win the Games was District 7, and the four of them got killed within minutes. I'm not sure how the Bookmakers decide which District will do best before the Reapings even begin." Claudius shook his head. Caesar held back a laugh. The pair of them knew exactly how the Bookmakers decided which District would win before the Reapings had even begun. They pulled names from a hat, or flipped a coin, or rolled a dice. It was all a scam to entice people into betting big money on the Games before the outcome became more predictable.

"Well, it looks like we finally have something from District 3," Caesar announced, turning to the large screen behind him.

"The wildcard District," Jasmine breathed.

* * *

The cameras panned to a sleek building made from black glass with the District 3 Seal carved into it. The Seal pulsed with white light. District 3 had a talent for making technology look beautiful. Their Escort, Zoe Azure, stepped up to the Reaping Bowls, which looked fairly out of place among all of the technological wonder. She smiled a beautiful, twinkling smile at the crowd of disheartened children and reached into the female Reaping Bowl. "Sheridan…"

"I volunteer as Tribute." The girls voice rang out around the courtyard in District 3. Although there was no noise to begin with, her voice seemed to add to the silence rather than break it, as though she was quietly daring anyone to make a sound. The 16 year olds section parted as though moved aside by some exterior force. A girl stepped out. She was tall; her hair was a dark-blonde, crudely chopped nest. She had a spattering of freckles on a face that had been sculpted by thunder. This girl was tough, and everyone could feel it. She moved very gracefully, which only added to the fear-factor that she radiated. She was slim, like an athlete. Everything about the girl looked as though it had been manufactured in a training room. She moved through the crowd without a care in the world, scanning her surroundings with large brown eyes that looked out of place above prominent cheekbones. "Calliope Mayfonte." She announced curtly as she reached the podium.

"Pleased to meet you," Zoe replied after a moment, "tell us, what motivated you to volunteer for the Games?"

"Personal reasons." Calliope replied, ending the conversation. Zoe nodded slightly, and moved to the male Reaping Bowl.

"I volunteer as Tribute," a voice spoke shakily across the courtyard, "may as well save you the effort of pulling out a name." Zoe nodded, and beckoned the young man onto the stage. A tall boy stepped out from the 16 year olds section. His hair was black as coal, he was athletic looking, but not overly muscular. What stood out most were his shining green eyes, which watered slightly onto cheeks a deep shade of red. He was scared, but he didn't want to show it.

"Hi there," Zoe shook his hand, "what's your name?"

"Dylan Rye," the boy replied.

"Why did you volunteer Dylan?" Zoe asked, showing some real concern. Dylan seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Personal reasons." He replied.

* * *

"Well," Caesar said in a quiet voice, "the wildcard District indeed." The entire studio sat speechless for a moment, before Caesar realised he was supposed to be presenting. "Jasmine, you said it yourself, District 3 _is_ the wildcard District. What do you make of that?"

"I'm not sure what to make of it Caesar. That was something wasn't it?" Caesar nodded, "I'd very much like to know what their 'personal reasons' for volunteering are."

"Wouldn't we all?" Claudius mused. Jasmine seemed very unsure of what to make of District 3. True, they never produced a consistent set of Tributes, like the Careers from District 1, or the weak, scrawny children from District 12. But this years Reaping had been strange in its own way. It was unusual at least, that both Tributes from 3 had been Volunteers.

"Mmm," Caesar continued, "we have a few minutes before District 4 are scheduled to conduct their Reaping. Jasmine, what advice do you have for our new Tributes?"

"Don't get killed." The audience gave a laugh, "That is pretty sound advice," she continued, "but no. The best advice I can give is this: Stay true to who you are, but don't be afraid to fight for yourself. There is only one winner after all."

"That there is," Caesar agreed solemnly, "could that winner be from District 4? Lets take a look, as we go live to the Reapings right now!" The audience gave a cheer as the three hosts turned once more to the large screen behind them.

* * *

The cameras panned over the blue waters and rugged shoreline of District 4. The place was beautiful, just like Panem's fourth richest District should be. Perched on the edge of the shoreline, was a large fishing village, made up of quaint wooden cottages. District 4's Justice Building was actually a large, weather beaten Trawler, no longer sea-worthy, it had been converted into the Districts central hub. District 4's Escort, Sheamus O'Leary, reached into the Female Reaping Bowl and announced in a gruff voice, "Madge…"

"I volunteer as Tribute." Voices cheered as the 18 year old stepped out of the crowd. The girl could be summed up in one word: rugged. She towered over nearly everyone in the District; her blonde hair was cropped short, barely touching her broad shoulders. Her dark blue eyes looked dead ahead, nothing distracting her from her goal. "Marlowe Bastion." The girl introduced herself as she crushed her Escort's hand.

"Hello Marlowe," Sheamus grimaced, "that was very brave. What made you want to volunteer for the Games?"

"I'm going to win the Games." The girl's answer was blunt and self-assured. Sheamus nodded, and hadn't even managed to read the name of the boy who was Reaped before a gruff voice bellowed over the crowd.

"I volunteer as Tribute!" The boy shoved his way through the crowd and marched up to the stage. He was huge. His frame was bulky and muscular, his face, though slightly out of proportion, was square-jawed and strong. He had short brown hair, and green-blue eyes that focused intensely on Sheamus O'Leary. "Azer," he announced as Sheamus's hand was crushed once again, "Azer Chistaen."

"I don't suppose I need to ask why you volunteered for the Games?" Sheamus said, tears in his eyes.

"_I'm _going to win the Games." The District pair tried their hardest to crush each others hands, and failing this, shared a smile of mutual respect before waving to the crowd who cheered them on.

* * *

"Well, four volunteers from two Districts. Jasmine, we'll come to you again. What are you thoughts?"

"That guy is huge," Jasmine whistled, "it's understandable why they are predicted to do well this year. The bar has definitely been set by the pair from District 4."

"It has, it has," Claudius agreed, "District 4 have definitely sent a strong pair of Tributes out, no doubt about that. But what about the volunteer pair from District 3?"

"I think the girl has potential to do well," Jasmine commented, "I'm not sure about Dylan, he looks the weakest of the bunch right now, but you never know."

"Well," Caesar said, "the odds are in Azer's favour right now, but that can all change. We'll be taking a short break as we wait for the Reapings from District 5, which unfortunately means that your time here with us is at an end."

"Yes, unfortunately it is," Jasmine shrugged, "but I'm sure we'll see more of each other throughout the Games."

"Absolutely," Caesar agreed, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a huge hand, for Jasmine Silk! Victor, of the 49th Annual Hunger Games!" The audience gave a huge round of applause; Jasmine was still very popular in the Capitol. Rightly so, Caesar thought, for she hadn't turned to alcohol or drugs, or just gone flat out crazy. Jasmine came out of the Games as normal as she went in, and Caesar respected her for that. She was his favourite Tribute, probably of all time, and he was sad to see her go.

"Thank you," Jasmine waved politely at the audience, "and thank _you _for having me." She stood up and gave Caesar a hug.

"It's been an absolute pleasure," Caesar replied, "give it up one more time, for Jasmine Silk!" The audience cheered as Jasmine wandered off to the side of the studio and disappeared behind a curtain.

* * *

_'Sometimes our actions are selfless, sometimes they are selfish, but our actions are always done for personal reasons.'_

* * *

**A/N: **

**Heyy Guys, **

**Here are the Reapings for District 3 &amp; 4, I hope you've enjoyed them. What do you guys think of the format I'm using? I didn't get too many reviews on the last chapter, and feelings seem to be a bit mixed. I'd really appreciate some feedback, I don't want to keep writing something that everyone hates, I'd rather change it up so more people enjoy it. **

**Of course, in this chapter we say goodbye to the lovely Jasmine. I actually quite liked her character, even though you guys didn't learn an awful lot about her, so we might see her again. I quite enjoyed giving a short description of the Districts, even if its not how they appear in the books. What do you guys think of D4's Justice Building being a Trawler? **

**I had hoped that by this point I'd have the Mentors sorted and I could begin handing out points, but it just isn't happening. Some folk aren't making it seriously, and it does annoy the Mentors/District partners, and some Mentors can't decide on a District, which annoys the District Pair(s) who asked for them to Mentor. Hopefully I get a few more sign-ups and I end up with the 12 Mentors I need. Just please, talk to your District Partner, Mentors who've been asked, please choose a District. For those of you who have a Mentor, you should be coming up with strategies! Good luck! **

**A final thing I want to ask you is this: Do I have your permission to publish UtBF as an e-Book (iBooks), with your Tribute in it? I'll still be publishing the story here obviously, but I'd like to convert the finished product into an e-Book, and I need permission again to use your characters. **

**Cheers,**

**Iron Man.**

**Also, thanks to Coleto98, IndigoStarling, Elim9 and Starry Infinities for Dylan, Calliope, Marlowe and Azer. **


	5. Chapter 5 A Fair Chance - D5 & 6

**Here's something to think about: Any Tributes that are found to be 'recycled', will be fed to the monster... Thanks to TalesofFanFiction, Wish on the Star, hollowman96 and nevergone4ever for Malcolm, Lexi, Garret and Bitte (Bit-Uh if you wondered how to pronounce it.) **

* * *

**5\. **

**A Fair Chance**

* * *

Celia Torrent tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. The Reapings were running on schedule, even if District 3 were a little slow at getting organised. District 3 was an interesting place, and they'd sent forward two very different Tributes. One was strong and confident; the other seemed a little more timid. For all Celia knew, they could both be bluffing. She would keep an eye on them during Training. District 4 had produced her favourite Tributes so far. Both were strong, and both looked genuinely ruthless. Not only would this provide good entertainment for the Capitol, but when the time came, they would be easy to manipulate. Tributes like Azer and Marlowe wouldn't shy away when given a shot at glory, and a shot was all she needed to give. But whom would she give that shot to?

"Malcolm Halberd," President Snow mused. A pale boy shook hands with District 5's Mentor as his name was pulled from the Reaping Bowl. He was muscular, with dark blue eyes and shaggy black hair. His expression was grim, but accepting.

"You know him?" Celia asked. Of course the President knew him, but she didn't have a better conversation opener handy.

"I've had several complaints about him and his father," Snow replied, "They're gamblers, the whole family. They enjoy conning people out of money and luxury items. They also prove adequate at covering their tracks. It's hard to find good Peacekeepers these days; men like Thread are too good to waste on the Districts."

"But you're sure he is a criminal?" Celia sat back in her chair.

"Positive," Snow leant closer to the screen, "District 5 could never be called 'poor', they are one of Panem's richest Districts, but look at young Mr. Halberd. He isn't as gaunt, or thin as his peers. He seems more confident, and he has some muscle too. Not common traits in District 5."

"That's very observant. You intend to teach them a lesson I presume?" Celia asked. President Snow smiled.

"I've already done that. Pierce Halberd is not the only man who can trick the citizens of Panem into believing they have a fair chance, I'll make sure he knows it too." Celia raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "There was only one name put into the District 5 Reaping Bowl, for the boys anyway. Now lets see what young Malcolm can do."

* * *

"Alexia Quinn!" District 5's Escort beamed as the girl made her way from the 16 year olds section. She was short, and quite skinny, with dark hair and chocolate-brown eyes. The girl tried her hardest to look tough and un-intimidated, but it wasn't fooling anyone. The girls chin was raised just a little _too_ high, her chest puffed out _too_ much. She was nervous. But then, who wouldn't be? For District 5 and above, the Hunger Games was almost a death sentence. The District Escort, Nikita, shook her hand eagerly. "Alexia," she began.

"Call me Lexi," the girl cut in.

"Lexi," Nikita continued, "how do you feel about being selected to represent your District in this years Hunger Games?"

"_Fan_tastic," Lexi spat. The sarcasm in her voice wasn't very well masked. Nikita rambled on for too long and the broadcast was eventually cut.

* * *

"What do you think?" Celia asked as the District 5 Reapings finished.

"Both will die around halfway," President Snow replied, "District 4 have too much in their favour for either of them not to make it to the final three. But who will join them?"

"I'd say Judith, but we still have seven Districts to go. Don't count either of them out though. I've been a Gamemaker for twenty years, twelve of them as a Grunt. I've seen my fair share of surprises." Celia reflected on her long career. When she had first arrived, nobody expected her to stay long. None of the other women in her position had lasted more than two years. A Grunt. That was the name given to the lowest ranking members of the team. They had the longest hours, and the smallest pay. Most who managed to stick it out for five years got promoted quickly. Celia waited twelve years for promotion without complaint.

"I imagine you have," Snow replied, "nobody expected you to last more than a year you know."

"You know my family's history. If twelve years being worked to the bone was what it took to prove my loyalty to the Capitol, then I'd do my twelve years." Celia gazed hard into President Snow's eyes.

"Your sister Corsica, she's an Avox isn't she? Someone brought this to my attention while trying to get your job." The President mulled this over while awaiting Celia's answer.

"Did they also mention _who_ cut out her tongue?" Celia replied coldly. "Lets see how Caesar is coping with his new _guest._"

* * *

Caesar was growing increasingly irritated. Tristan Roark, Victor of the 41st Games, was an absolute loon. During his Games, his Sponsors had sent him a drug that made him somewhat rabid. He went on a 9 Tribute killing spree to win, but when the drug wore off and he saw the bodies that lay at his feet, he snapped. His mind simply couldn't cope, and he nearly succeeded in killing himself with the axe that was in his hand at the time. Clearly, the years had not helped him recover. He was currently raving on about how the voices in his head had warned him not to burn his toast on the electric fence. Even Caesar had given up trying to talk to him. Caesar scratched his head and announced, "Well there we go! District 5! Fantastic! Just as Alexia – sorry, Lexi – put it! Join us right here after the break as we'll be going live to District 6!"

"Get him out," Caesar sighed to one of the Peacekeepers that Tristan had arrived with. The Peacekeeper removed him without a word. "They get worse each year." He turned to Claudius.

"Oh well," Claudius replied, "at least our next _guest _doesn't arrive until District 9 begin their Reapings, and he's in a better frame of mind than Mr. Roark." The Producer signaled to Caesar who plastered on his smile once again.

"Welcome back! Unfortunately Tristan has had to leave us, but no matter! Because now we're ready to go live to District 6!"

* * *

The Justice Building of District 6 loomed out of the mist like a great cliff hemming in a sea of broken souls. District 6 was Panem's largest District, and it showed. Thousands upon thousands of faces looked up towards the stage at Reyna Ramirez, who gently plucked a name from the girl's Reaping Bowl. "Bitte Vertigan," she announced in a crystal clear voice. A small cart ferried the girl from the back of the large crowd. She was small, with rosy cheeks and blonde hair. She was a little stiff looking, but her poker face held up. The girl smiled and shook Reyna's hand politely.

"Pleasure to meet you Reyna," Bitte managed to hold her composure again, but the cracks were starting to show.

"The pleasure is mine Miss Vertigan. So tell us, how do you feel about being selected to represent District 6 in the 51st Games?" Reyna spoke gently to the 18 year old, and just for a moment, caused the cracks in her composure to split open. She broke into a nervous laughter, but quickly gathered herself again.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't at least a _little _scared," the girl knew all about the importance of first impressions it seemed, "but I'm also feeling quite excited to be a part of a 51 year long tradition."

"What a wonderful attitude to have Bitte!" Reyna beamed. "May the odds be ever in your favour!" The crowd gave a somewhat half-hearted cheer as Bitte was accompanied by Peacekeepers to one of the waiting rooms.

* * *

"Vertigan!" A tall, slightly muscular, 17 year old stepped into the train carriage that would take them on their journey to the Capitol. "Nice work with the crowd out there, really got them warmed up for me!"

"Garret Valens," Bitte turned her head away in disgust, "they couldn't have picked a Morphling instead? At least they don't talk much. They'd be far better company."

"Ooo," Garret cocked his head and sauntered over to where Bitte was standing, "I can be _very _good company you know." He began to wrap his arms around her waist, but Bitte gave him a hard shove that sent him sprawling.

"Keep your hands off me!" She spat, "I'm not as thick as Susan, or Vanessa…"

"It's Patricia," Garret cut in, "this week anyway." Bitte shook her head Garret Valens was a known womanizer, a boxer too. Bitte despised him. He was always sauntering around Hub 43 like he owned the place. He was a cocky, arrogant, pathetic fool.

"Well I suggest you keep your hands to yourself whilst you're onboard this train, or I'll use this," she said, waving a small knife from the dining table at him, "to cut them off. Along with anything else that tries to find it's way to where it doesn't belong." Garret raised his hands and got back to his feet.

"I'm impressed, really." A menacing glint formed in his eye, "but what makes you certain that _it _doesn't belong _there_?" Bitte let out a harsh sigh and stormed off into her compartment. Garret sat in a chair, his grin fading. He gazed out the window as his District rolled out of view, and though about what Jessica had told him as he was leaving.

* * *

_'In a world like this, does anyone have a fair chance?'_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Heyy Guys, **

**Here is the long awaited Reapings for D5&amp;6\. I hope you've enjoyed the chapter, and the little shift in format. Celia is my second best OC, so I can't help but give her attention. I realise some Tributes got a bit more 'screen time' than others this time around, but it just fits that way in the story. I'm not showing preference, everyone will get their turn at some point. **

**Time to plug the website again. I kinda built this forum, it was active for a week, and now no-one is using it again. Any suggestions on how to improve he site? Also, what do you guys think of the sites new section? Have you read the file on Celia's Tablet..?**

**I'm still on the hunt for that final Mentor... I'll give you guys until the next chapter to take your pick of Mentors, otherwise I'm just going to assign you guys a Mentor and you'll have to make the best of it. Mentor points are also going to start soon. Probably by the D9 Reapings, unless I change my mind. **

**I thought it was obvious... Reviewing the story helps keep your Tribute in the Games. I see other SYOT's with 10,000 reviews on 3 chapters (I'm exaggerating but you know what I mean) and it makes me feel like I'm not doing much of a job. Don't be afraid to tell me if you don't like something, I'd rather that than continue with something nobody's interested in. **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Iron Man. **

**Also, for those of you who read the file on Celia's Tablet: If I ever decide to do a second SYOT... which of those designs would you most like to see be used? **


	6. There's a Storm on the Way D7 & 8

**Thanks to xSakura-Blossomsx, Kopycat101, Starry Infinities and Nameless Ghoul for Satin, Aursen, Raelyn and Obubu. **

* * *

**6.**

**There's a Storm on the Way**

* * *

District 7's large forests were groaning under the strain of a summer thunderstorm by the time the Reapings got underway. Large Juniper and Pine trees swayed with a heavy wind, and lightning cracked across the sky. Satin Valentine sat in the Waiting Room, wondering why the Peacekeepers were taking so long to usher her onto the train. She had been Reaped. It had come as a surprise to her, and she had been filled with a sense of fear. But she also harbored a secret admiration for the Capitol. The city was legend, and she was excited to get a glimpse of it, even if only for a few days.

Satin tucked a strand of velvety red hair behind her ear, and thought back to the moment she had been Reaped. Trey Green, the District's Escort, had shoved his hand roughly into the Reaping Bowl and barked out her name. For a moment, Satin was frozen on the spot. But after an encouraging nod from her friend Dressal, she made her way to the podium and shook Trey's outstretched hand. A boy named Aursen Nicks had been Reaped shortly afterwards. He was a 12 year old, with long blonde hair, grey eyes and an eternally cheerful smile. Satin couldn't see him going far.

That hadn't seemed to bother him though. He eagerly bounded up to the stage and shook Trey's hand so enthusiastically it might've come off. The problem was, he just looked so small. He stood at about 5 feet; he had no muscle and was really very scrawny. Satin couldn't help but feel for him. He seemed to perceive none of the danger he was really in. Satin though that would be nice, in a way. To not care about being Reaped. To not fear death. Satin was still scared of death, despite her excitement about going to the Capitol; she was still scared of death.

* * *

"Excellent, excellent!" Caesar proclaimed from behind his desk, "We're past the halfway mark now! 7 of our 12 Districts have been Reaped, and we'll be heading over to District 8 very shortly, but right now we can look back on this years Reapings so far!"

"Yes, it's been a rather interesting year so far," Claudius Templesmith chimed in, "Particularly in the case of our two Tributes from District 3, would you agree Caesar?"

"Most certainly," Caesar replied, "Districts 1, 2 and 4 regularly give us Volunteers, but two Volunteers from District 3 is something that hasn't happened in a long time. I'm very interested to meet with both Calliope and Dylan, to try and find out what motivated the pair of them to put themselves forward."

"Absolutely, and a young Mr. Valens seemed very confident in himself after he was Reaped, he will surely give you a good interview Caesar!"

"I am sure he will! But interviews can wait, because now we head over to District 8 to see the Reapings!"

* * *

Fumes rose into the air, smothering those in sight. There had been an accident at a factory specializing in dresses for the Capitol. The people of District 8 had been thrown into chaos. People ran in all directions, trying to avoid the fire that was rising into the sky. The Peacekeepers, who seemed to have little care for anyone's wellbeing – including their own – held the children in their pens and ordered the Reapings to continue. District 8's Escort, Velvet Shimmer, placed her shaking hands into the girl's Reaping Bowl. "Zara…"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" A voice sang out across the crowd, and a girl danced dreamily up to the stage. Her hair was a mess of split ends and different colours. Her cheeks were rosy, with a dash of freckles, and she had almond eyes with a cheeky glint to them. The girl floated up to the stage and shook hands with Velvet, clearly unfazed by the fire raging behind her. "Raelyn Macery, but you can call me Rae!"

"Pleasure to meet you Rae," Velvet replied with a degree of composure, "what courage you have to volunteer yourself as Tribute."

"My friend was killed last year, I'm entering in his honour. Plus, it'll be fun!" The girl smiled a dreamy smile.

"How lovely," Velvet smiled back, "and now for the boys!"

"I volunteer as Tribute!" A commanding voice barked out across the crowd.

* * *

Caesar had to force himself to hold back a laugh. Obubu Mabebe had volunteered. The heaviest kid you have ever seen, a solid 300lbs. He had dark, greasy hair tied back in a ponytail and dark beads for eyes. The boy could hardly shift his own weight, and was panting by time he ascended the steps up onto the stage. He had very nearly flattened Velvet, and had surely hurt her hand shaking it. He was arrogant, and really quite hilarious, though not intentionally.

Velvet had asked him what made him decide to volunteer. His answer would have fitted well if he were from District 2. "I won't have any trouble winning the Games, I'm just here for the money." Caesar turned back to the camera's that were pointed his way.

"Well there you have it folks! Our Tributes from District 8! Both volunteers too! I wonder how well they will fare in this years Hunger Games…"

"I wonder..." Claudius agreed. "We'll be taking a short break now, but we'll be back in time for District 9's Reapings, so don't go anywhere!"

_'Prepare yourselves Tributes, there's a storm on the way…'_

**A/N:**

**Heyy Guys, **

**Before I do my happy message, I just want to talk serious for a moment:  
**

* * *

**There has been a few 'incidents' of people stealing my ideas, or various elements, from UtBF. Just today I found that someone had copied my submission form to use on their own story, word for word. I don't mind if people want to use things like that, but I do mind if you do it without asking me first. I try to make my stories original, and it's hard if my ideas are taken and ****published on other stories. **

**There's been incidents involving TribuTrack® (which I DO mind people using), and due to a fault in my website - which I've now fixed - my Arena Map was 'leaked' for an hour. Hopefully you guys didn't see it as I want the Arena to be a surprise for you, but I also hope people don't steal the idea. **

* * *

**Right, that wasn't very pleasant. First off, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know it's a bit shorter, but one of the characters isn't going to be around long, so I gave them a quick glance-over. **

**Second of all, and this is a big one! I've been hard at work getting my website ready for the real Games to begin! You'll notice a couple pages, like TribuTrack®, have been shut down. This is because they are now being changed for the real Games, and they'll remain shut until the Games begin. **

**I've completed the page for the Arena, and added most of the scenes to TribuTrack® as well, which I must say, looks fantastic. It's had a big re-design, and I'm really happy with it. I'll be opening the page for the Training Centre soon, and I'm also adding an extra 2 days of Training! **

**Finally, Merry Christmas! I won't be updating till after Christmas, so I hope you guys have a wonderful day! **

**Merry Christmas, **

**Iron Man. **


	7. Chapter 7 As a Reminder D9 & 10

**Ehh, where is everyone gone? Thanks to Elim9, ****kgeesy, Moist Larry and Jalen Kun for Errol, Persephone, Amber-Rose and Addison. **

* * *

**7**

**As a Reminder…**

* * *

The District 10 Reapings had been eventful. Caesar had been having a relatively normal day on the job. A few shock volunteers from the outer Districts, but nothing special, nothing like this. District 9's Reapings went by without complication. The first Tribute was a Volunteer. That came as little surprise. Persephone Barley was the 16-year-old daughter of two proud Victors. It was only a matter of time before one of their children volunteered. That, or they claimed so many tesserae they were the only names in the bowl.

The girl had walked to the stage with obvious confidence. Her platinum hair, the tips dyed purple, flickered across her face in the breeze. She held her head high, and approached the stage. She was obviously far wealthier than her peers in the District. She was well fed; her muscles were toned and well built. It didn't come as a surprise to many when she said she'd volunteered for the glory. Capitol citizens who'd placed bets on her volunteering would be raking in a handsome sum of cash. Her parents, one of whom was her Mentor, stood proudly and watched her shake hands with her District partner.

Her District partner was a little more curious. Errol Ford was a 13 year old. Not a nice age to be reaped, but the boy had dashed up to the stage like a madman. He was tall, had hit his growth spurt early by the looks of it, and tanned from hours spent outside. He had a little muscle, but nothing that wasn't uncommon in District 9 where everyone spent hours doing hard manual labour. The boy was slightly awkward, and definitely nervous.

He managed a short interview on the podium. He'd rushed to the stage to stop his older brothers volunteering for him. He was nervous, sure. But he was also excited. The Hunger Games was going to be a great challenge. He'd always wondered if he'd survive them, now he had no choice but to find out. Errol had hopped off the stage and into the Waiting Room. Caesar wondered if Errol was just putting on a brave face, or if the reality hadn't hit him yet. Maybe he really was brave enough.

* * *

"A bold choice Celia," President Snow greeted her as she stepped off the hovercraft that had brought her back from District 10. "Let us hope it pays off."

"She'll still be more entertaining than the boy she volunteered for." Celia replied bluntly. The President had left the choice up to her; she hoped there wouldn't be repercussions. Not after what happened to last years Head Gamemaker. A child from District 3 had recently found his left pinkie toe in amongst a few coils of wire that were heading for the scrap pile. Celia did not aspire to meet a similar fate. "Besides, now District 10 is interesting for a change. Speaking of interesting…" Celia glanced towards the mob of stylists arriving through a doorway on her left.

"Oh Miss Torrent!" One of them wailed as she approached the Head Gamemaker. She toddled over and began assessing Celia's clothes. "Oh that military style clothing just won't do! I think blue, it will match your eyes and…"

"Shut up." Celia took a long pause between each word. "I don't know what makes you think you have the right to touch me… But if you so much as develop a hitch in your breath, I will carve out your eyeballs and feed them to your children. I am the Head Gamemaker, the woman _in charge_ of the Hunger Games, and in charge of you. You'll show me respect when I summon you here." The stylist quivered and slipped to the very back of the group.

"The reason I called you all here… Is to show you this." Celia pointed a hand towards a group of monitors behind her, and clicked a small remote in her hands. "These are the designs for this years chariots. They are already in the final stages of construction. Your job as Stylists is to create an outfit for your Tribute that matches the style of the chariot they will be riding. If I see a single Tribute dressed as a cow or a pig, the Stylist responsible will be… publicly executed." Celia gave the Stylists a smile; "I will not have a mockery made of my Games before they have even begun. " Celia waved her hand towards the door. "You may leave now." The Stylists made a swift exit.

"You seemed to have given them a scare," President Snow spoke from the chair he was lounging in, "let's check in on the Reapings shall we? Lest there be more trouble."

* * *

**45 Minutes Earlier…**

"Addison Thorne." Rosalinda Fuentes called out the girls name and scanned the crowd. She emerged from a group of 16 year olds. Her hair was an untamed mane of jet-black strands. Her face was sharp, with dark brown skin and hazelnut eyes. She clearly wasn't happy. But not in the usual scared, nervous, facing impending death way that Tributes usually reacted.

The girl was quite scrawny. She looked quite underfed, but had a little bit of an athletic look to her. What stood out most was the defiance in her eyes. She bore into Rosalinda like a jackhammer, as if she could stare so intensely it would burn her Escort to ashes. She stood at the bottom of the stage and waited. Rosalinda gestured to her, "Come on up Addison." That was when the defiance cracked. Addison screamed a rather profane string of words and made a run for it. It didn't last very long. A trio of Peacekeepers manhandled the girl onto the stage and struggled to hold onto her as she kicked and punched and screamed.

Rosalinda continued unphased. She had been an Escort for ten years, and had seen it all before. "Now for the boys," she smiled, ignoring the words Addison was screaming at her. The girl was absolutely enraged. "Taisiya Danshov!" Murmurs echoed throughout the crowd in District 10. Taisiya Danshov walked slowly out of the crowd, and the reason for all of the murmurs became apparent. Taisiya had only one eye, and his right arm was cut off halfway. There was no chance he would survive the Games. Rosalinda looked on him with pity. Then a female voice cried out, "No! Stop! I volunteer!"

"What?" Rosalinda was taken aback, "you can't volunteer!"

"Is it in the rules? Please, just let me take his place! It's not fair!" The girl had wild, mousy brown hair and appeared quite muscular. She looked up at Rosalinda with shining green eyes. "Please."

"Someone check the rules please," Rosalinda sighed. She could lose her job over this, but at least she was checking the official rules to see if the girl was eligible to volunteer. The head Peacekeeper beckoned her offstage. Rosalinda nodded to the crowd and hurried of to confer with the man.

"It says nothing!" The man hissed.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Rosalinda hissed back.

"There isn't a rule for a situation like this! We weren't prepared for it!"

"Well, what do we do? There are thousands of people out there awaiting an answer! We need…" An almighty roar cut out Rosalinda's voice, and everyone else's. A Capitol hovercraft cast an enormous shadow over District 10. The crafts door lowered and extended into a long ramp. The most feared woman in Panem stood at the edge, her blonde hair whipping around in the breeze, her blue eyes piercing the souls of everyone watching.

* * *

Celia Torrent ordered the pilot to hover over the stage. She jumped the remaining ten feet to the ground, and landed gracefully behind the microphone. Celia turned and gazed out at the crowd, enjoying the fear that radiated from the thousands of faces she was looking at. She watched them for a full minute before speaking. "Citizens of Panem," she began slowly, quietly, "as a reminder to the Rebels that the horrors of war do not care to show bias to any particular gender… this young lady will be allowed to volunteer to take Mr Danshov's place."

The District held a fearful silence as Celia invited the girl up on stage, and praised her bravery. Her name was Amber-Rose Brown. Her family ran a bookshop, and she worked with the District's livestock. She was fairly muscular in comparison with her District partner, who had been astonishingly quiet since the hovercraft arrived. Celia stood in conversation with the pair for a few minutes, before ascending a rope ladder and returning to the hovercraft and returning to the Capitol.

* * *

_'As a reminder to the Rebels that the horrors of war do not care to show bias to any particular gender…'_

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy guys! New chapter time! We're almost finished the Reapings! **

**So first off, thanks to those of you reviewing! You've already gotten your Tributes further! I also understand if you can't review all the time, but one every once in a while to let me know how I'm doing would be nice. **

**A few questions I'd like you guys to answer: **

**1\. What do you think of District 10 having 2 females this year?**

**2\. What do you think of my writing this chapter? **

**3\. What do you think of Celia? **

**Another thing is TribuTrack®. I've decided to let you guys pick the shape/colour of your Tributes' marker. You can can choose from theses shapes: Circle, Square, Triangle, Hexagon, Heart. You can also pick a colour for the shape, and the shapes' border. This can be any colour you can think up! But please don't make it too difficult, I already put in huge amounts of effort. You can PM me your choices. **

**More on the website. TribuTrack® has had a big re-design. SO much so I'm calling it TribuTrack® 2.0! I'm very pleased with it! I've also created a map of the Training Centre's new section, and I've added 2 more Training days! I think I've mentioned all of this before, but just incase I hadn't... **

**Finally, I'd like to wish you guys a happy New Year when it comes to you! **

**Iron Man. **

**Ps. If anyone wants to be helpful to me, there is a poll on my profile. Nothing to do with Hunger Games, it's for my Harry Potter story, but the results are neck-and-neck. I need a clear winner so if you'd like to help me out and click 2 options that'd be much appreciated! Sorry for the over-long Author's Note...**


	8. Chapter 8 The Final Reapings

**Thanks to Jalen Kun, Xymena Falling, Obviously Entei and xSakura-Blossomsx for Nathan, Aphra, Jonah and Belle. **

* * *

**8**

**The Final Reapings**

* * *

District 11's Justice Building stood solemnly amongst the fields of wheat. A great stone building that reflected the neglect shown to the District. Their Escort, Nicolai Demeter gazed out towards the crowd as he gingerly thrust his hand into the first Reaping Bowl. "Aphra Maston," he called out clearly, reading the name from the card. The girl stifled a small scream as she made her way onto the stage. She was a pretty thing, short, with cinnamon skin and dark hair. Her dark brown eyes shone with fear as Nicolai shook her hand and asked her a few questions. _Of course she was scared of heading into the Arena. Yes she would be leaving friends behind. The Capitol would be nice to see before walking to their probable deaths. _

Caesar made a quick assessment of the girl. She was really quite skinny. That wouldn't give her much of a chance against any of this years Career pack, and there would undoubtedly be a Career pack. On the plus side, Aphra was a pretty girl. Not the prettiest girl at the Games it had to be said, but certainly pretty. That was something she could use to gain sponsors, most of whom usually prefer the girls to the boys. Caesar watched as Nicolai placed his hand into the second Reaping Bowl. "Nathan Cole." A small cough emitted from the middle of the crowd before the boy stepped out.

He had hair as black as coal, and eyes a grey-blue like the sea. The boy was far skinnier than his District partner, though very tall. He wouldn't last an attack from the Career's either. Despite this, the 15 year old strode up to the stage with his head held high. He paused for a moment, looked towards another boy in the crowd, and gave a solemn shake of the head. Then he continued onwards, he shook hands with Nicolai as he took to the stage, and then stood for the remainder of the time with clenched fists and a stern look on his face.

* * *

Effie Trinket sat in the trains Dining car with a glum look on her face. The final Reapings had finished, and District 12 was anything but spectacular. Her two children were pleasant enough. Jonah Abagnale had volunteered for his older brother. He was one of District 12's more solidly built boys, though he only stood at 5ft 6. He had honey-blonde hair and stormy grey eyes. But Effie found him to be hot-tempered and ineloquent. The girl, on the other hand, was very nice.

Belle Rose was a sweet girl, a 15 year old, just like Jonah. But she was far more reserved, and mild-natured. She'd been very strong during the Reapings. Not a single tear had fallen as she stood on stage. When she arrived on the train though, Effie wrapped her in a hug and let her have a cry. It must have been horrible, knowing you were about to face your death. Belle was such a pretty girl too. She had long brown hair, which she obviously took care of, and hazel eyes that shone like gemstones. She was funny too, and once the crying had stopped, she adopted a much more positive attitude.

She had left to settle into her compartment for the night, so as to be fresh for arriving in the Capitol tomorrow. Now Effie was left in the company of Haymitch Abernathy, District 12's broken Victor. The man had downed 4 jars of whiskey in the last 20 minutes, and would likely consume more. There was no chance that he could be made presentable in time for tomorrow morning's arrival. Effie would just have to ignore him and try not to notice him stumbling around, making a fool of his District. She gazed out the window and looked at the stars. There were so many of them, bright and beautiful, each one making an impact on a black and foreboding sky. Just like her Tributes, she thought. The two of them would enter the foreboding city that was the Capitol, and emerge as shining stars adorning the sky.

* * *

_'The Final Reapings had finished…'_

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy Guys, new chapter time! **

**I also, as I usually do, have a few things to talk about. The first thing is, the Reapings have finished! I realise this chapter is short, but I seriously hated writing the Reapings. In fact, I'm not doing another SYOT after this one, because I just hate the Reapings that much. That being said, people don't seem to be reading this one as much either. I think I'll be taking a bit of time to concentrate on my Harry Potter story, as more people are eager for me to write a new chapter, especially since I haven't given ****them a chapter in over a month. **

**The website has had another ****update. You can now see the map for the new section of the Training Centre! I also have UtBF's first poll up on my profile, make sure to choose 8 options! Also, should I delete the forum on my website, I spent a lot of time getting it working, but nobody uses it anymore. **

**I've also assigned Mentors to each District, except D4 who - unless I find a Mentor for them - will receive a bit of Authors Privilege from me. Now I can start the points system. You can check on my profile to find your assigned District/Mentor, the list is also on the website. I'm sorry if you didn't get the Mentor/District you wanted, but you had plenty of time to choose and I have a story to write. **

**Mentors' question for this week, worth 1 point, is this: Which of the options on the poll on my profile is set in Shanghai, China? **

**Remember, Mentors can also get 1 point for following, and 1 more for favouriting the story. **

**Thanks for reading, **

**Iron Man. **


	9. Chapter 9 A Train Ride Through Panem

**9**

**A Train Ride Through Panem**

* * *

Bitte Vertigan stood in the shower inside her compartment, letting the water cascade gently over her pale blonde hair. Earlier, a tannoy had announced that they were arriving in the Capitol in around two hours. Bitte had spent nearly one of those hours in the shower now, and contemplated spending the remainder of her time in the hot water. But the last thing she wanted was to be dragged out of the shower by an army of Peacekeepers, and be presented to the Capitol without any clothes on. Besides, the trains' water tanks would empty if she took much longer. Reluctantly, Bitte stepped out of the shower and began drying off.

Bitte wrapped a towel around her body and walked into her tiny room to get dressed, only to find her District partner sitting on her bed. She threw herself backwards in shock, "What are you doing here? Get out!"

"Relax Vertigan," Garret smirked, "Reyna wants us all to meet in the dining car in about ten minutes, and I was coming to tell you. I only half-expected you to be naked."

"Half-expected?" Bitte spat back.

"Come on Vertigan, we both know it was only a matter of time before you started throwing your clothes off to get my attention." Whatever Garret was planning to say next was cut off by a sharp slap across the face.

"Shut up!" Garret shrank back for a moment as Bitte screamed at him. "I don't want to be here! I had a nice, quiet life, a house by the river. I was happy. Now we're being sent here to die, the least you could do is show me some respect! Don't you think I have enough to worry about without you trying to make me another notch on your bedpost?"

"I'm sorry Bitte," Garret rested a hand on her bare shoulder, "I want to go home too." He wrapped her into an uncomfortable hug and promised her everything would be fine. It was an empty promise, but Bitte tried to find a little comfort in his words.

"Only one of us can go home," Bitte said quietly, "if it comes down to just us, one of us has to kill the other."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Garret replied solemnly. Bitte was hoping he'd provide words of comfort, assure her that everything would be ok. But it wouldn't be ok, and there was little point in sugarcoating it. Garret was prepared to kill her if he had to. The Hunger Games was a fight to the death, with only one winner. Was Bitte really ready for that? Was she ready to kill someone? Garret stroked her cheek before backing away. He was halfway out the door before he stuck his head back in, winked and said, "Oh, by the way, your towel's slipped Vertigan."

* * *

"Why did you do it?" Dylan asked his District partner, "What made you volunteer?"

"Personal reasons," Calliope replied.

"Come on," Dylan pressed, "we might both be going to our deaths right now."

"Then why bother getting to know each other anyway?" The girl countered. She looked cruel, very cruel. Despite the innocent face, a spattering of freckles. Calliope Mayfonte was a mystery. Dylan could see hurt behind those brown eyes, something had drastically changed her, drastically changed her indeed.

"My Mum's sick," Dylan tried a different approach, "She can only be cured if I win, and use the Victors Prize Money to pay for her treatment."

"Then try not to die." Calliope retorted. Dylan let out a sigh. She wasn't going to be easy to get along with, but he was determined to try.

* * *

"Put your clothes on," Judith instructed while struggling to squeeze herself into a T-shirt of her own.

"You have a _rather _different attitude this morning," Jack replied from between the sheets, "I thought last night was…"

"Last night was selfish lust, nothing else." Judith cut him off bluntly. She finished getting dressed, and told him to be out in 10 minutes. Jack flopped back on to the bed. They would be in the Capitol soon, and the fun would be over. Once they got off this train, everything would change. They would no longer be at ease with each other; there would be a much thicker tension in the air. Not just between himself and Judith either, but between himself and the twenty-two other Tributes he was supposed to kill. It also meant, most unfortunately, that there would be very few nights like the one he had on the train.

But if Jack was totally honest, even if he wasn't going into the Hunger Games, there would be very few nights like the one he had just spent with Judith. Reluctantly he crawled out of bed and got dressed. He arrived just as the train caught sight of the Capitol. Their Escort, Flavius, was incredibly worked up. "Honestly Jack, what kind of time is this? You've missed breakfast, we haven't been able to have a team discussion, and _last night!" _

"Relax Flavius, Judith and I spent hours going over our strategy last night. I think we have it worked out."

"That's not even remotely funny!" Flavius fumed.

"Good," Jack replied, "Cause' I was being deadly serious. We're going to do just fine, trust me." Flavius clearly didn't trust him, but he didn't make the mistake of saying any more. Jack gazed out of the window and gnawed on a muffin he'd grabbed from the snack table. Their destination wasn't far away, ten minutes or so. He took in the Capitol, pillars of white limestone held up older buildings on the outskirts of the city, while the area in the middle was dominated by glass structures that touched the sky. Off to the left of the City Circle, where they would be brought this evening, was a building Jack knew as the President's Mansion. It was absolutely ghastly, but Jack made a mental note to keep that thought to himself. Throwing his muffin wrapper into a bin at the other side of the room, he began to come up with a strategy for the Games.

* * *

Celia watched from the shadows as the train arrived. As was usual on arrival day, thousands of people stood on the platform to get the first glimpse of the emerging Tributes before they were rushed off to a prep team to be poked and prodded and plucked and waxed and washed countless times. The Capitol had already picked their favourite; unsurprisingly it was the prettiest female Career with the largest chest that had grabbed their attention. As the train slid into the station and the carriage doors hissed open, incredible noise rang out in the air. There was a lot of cheering from the Capitolites, but it didn't mask the underlying chants of '_Judith! Judith! Judith!' _

The girl played on it well. Waving and cheering, she even posed for photos with a group of girls who had jumped the barrier separating the crowd and the Tributes. She knew how to handle herself. This was why Celia had come down to the station, to observe. How the Tributes handled themselves here, decided who Celia would leave to their own devices, who she would help in the Arena, and who would be executed. She enjoyed the calm that hiding in the shadows provided. Putting on a show for the public was all well and good, but running things behind the scenes, manipulating the outcome of events and disappearing while others pointed fingers and whispered names, that was where real power lay. Nobody knew she was there, nobody except Jack Banastre. He had only glanced over for a second, but he had stared directly into her eyes.

It didn't surprise her in the least. Jack possessed skills other Tributes would never learn in a Career Academy, and that was why he would always know when someone was watching him. Jack didn't seem to mind however; Celia wouldn't bring any harm to him. He would either win or lose the Games on his own. He smiled and waved to the crowd, and slowly made his way to the awaiting prep team. He flashed a wink at her. It was barely noticeable, only she would have seen it, she was sure of that. For the first time since the day she had been promoted, Celia smiled a genuine smile. Jack Banastre, the Master Assassin.

* * *

_'She wasn't going to be easy to get along with, but he was determined to try.'_

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy guys, I'm back with an all new chapter! **

**So, I hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter. I'd really appreciate it if you left a review and tell me what you think about my writing. As I always say, I'd rather know if people don't like my stuff cos' then I'm not wasting everyone's time writing things nobody likes. **

**Mentors, your challenge this week is to select the shape and colours of your Tribute's marker for TribuTrack®. This will earn you 2 points. The shapes available to choose from are listed on a previous chapter and any colour you can think of can be used for the shape and border, though please don't make it too hard. I was disappointed that Jalen Kun was the only person to select markers for his Tributes. I thought people were excited for TribuTrack®. **

**The poll is now closed, and I will post the results on the website later. Thanks to the 8 people who voted. **

**I hope you guys are still enjoying reading, **

**Iron Man. **


	10. Chapter 10 Your Chariot Awaits

**10**

**Your Chariot Awaits**

* * *

Addison Thorne winced as her prep team plucked more hair from her body. They had been at it for nearly 5 hours, waxing, washing, shaving, repeat. Creams had been applied, strange gels rubbed on. She had been put to sleep at one point, with very little warning. 'We're just adding a few details' they had said. She was sure that when she eventually did get up, she wouldn't recognize the girl in the mirror. Finally, her Prep Team let her up from the table and she looked in the mirror for the first time. She had to hold back a gasp. Looking at herself stripped completely bare, she could see all of the changes that had been made.

The only hair she had left was on top of her head, and that had been fluffed and cut and brushed to a completely new style. Her eyebrows had been plucked into a _perfect_ shape. All blemishes had been removed from her body to give her _perfect_ skin. Her face had been given a layer of make up to make her look _perfect_. But worst of all, she could see why she had been put under anesthetic. Her hips had more curve to them, and her chest was _noticeably _bigger. She had been made to look _perfect_. She felt manufactured.

* * *

Belle passed all of them on the way to her stylist, all of the girls. The Tributes had been split by gender once they got off the train, and taken into separate buildings to be prepped. Belle was now walking down a long corridor wearing nothing but some kind of hospital gown. The other girls were starting to emerge as she passed by each District's door. She remembered some of their names, Addison, Aphra, and Bitte. They had all undergone similar treatments, they all looked _perfect, _and they all wore the same look on their face.

All of the girls from the outer Districts, save Persephone, wore the same blank expression. The kind of expression that only comes with the hollow feeling of being _altered. _Their bodies had been changed, with or without their consent. Most of them wouldn't recognize themselves. Belle couldn't recognize herself. When she'd gotten up off of the table, she didn't see Belle Rose in the mirror anymore. What she saw was a 15 year old that had been turned into a blow-up doll.

Belle froze as a scream erupted from behind her. "What've they done to me?" A skinny girl burst out of one of the doors behind her, running wildly, her gown flailing around because she hadn't bothered putting it on properly. Belle caught as she attempted to fly past.

"Shhh," she hugged the girl, "They've done it to most of us."

"What are you talking about? Look at my hair!" The girl cried.

"It looks pretty normal to me…" Belle began to say, and then she realised. This was the girl from District 8, the one with a thousand colours in her hair. Now the colour was gone, and thin mousey brown locks were all that remained. Belle embraced the girl again.

"Look at my hair," she repeated, her voice much quieter this time.

"Look at your boobs," someone snorted behind them. At this point the taller girl looked down at her chest, and screamed again. The other girls were beginning to crowd around now, some comforting each other, some simply laughing. Belle turned to see the most terrifying woman she had ever laid eyes on. District 4's female, Belle couldn't remember her name, was easily 6 and half feet tall and had muscles bulging out of her eyes.

"Leave them alone," a voice spoke up. It was Bitte, the oldest of the group. But she was also the smallest. The monstrous girl picked her up by the waist with one hand. If it weren't for the situation being serious, the scene would have been incredibly comical.

"For a few days Vertigan," the Career said before dropping her what looked like several feet to the ground. A girl Belle remembered as Aphra helped Bitte up off the floor and retreated to the back.

"I don't know what you're all so upset about," Persephone Barley strutted past the group of girls from the Outer Districts, feeling her own chest, "I quite like mine."

As the pack of Careers left, Belle turned back to the weeping girl. "What's your name?"

"Rae, my name's Rae," She replied.

"Come on, let's see if we can find you any dye before the stylists make us dress up as cattle and lumps of coal."

* * *

"It could be a lot worse," Malcolm Halberd said. Lexi barely heard him. "We could have been dressed in some god awful Nuclear Disaster Suit." Lexi gave a small nod. She didn't even care what they had dressed her in. Now it was really starting, the Hunger Games were really here. _Time to suck it up_ Lexi thought. Now there was no more avoiding it.

"What are we wearing anyway?" She asked.

"Power-plant Security Uniforms, everyone's wearing some kind of military get-up." Malcolm looked around at the other Tributes. It wasn't actually true, but he had a point. District 2 were actually wearing uniforms from the Panem Military, District 7 looked like Roman Legionnaires and District 4 looked like Warrior Fisherman from some kind of videogame.

"At least you look good in yours, I look like a teeny-tiny soldier," Malcolm laughed and nodded.

"I'm only 5' 9," Malcolm shrugged, "You're not that much shorter than I am." Lexi stood with her hand on her hips and made a face. "Come on tiny soldier," Malcolm laughed, "Your Chariot awaits."

* * *

_'She had been made to look _perfect_. She felt manufactured.'_

* * *

**Heyy Guys, I have another chapter for you! **

**I realise this one is a little bit shorter, that's because I've kinda split it into two parts. The Chariot Rides themselves will come next. Also, I just want to make sure you guys know that this chapter is designed to make you hate the Capitol, I'm not trying to make people feel ****uncomfortable, it's specifically to show what an awful place that the Capitol really is and how they force people to conform to their standards. **

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter, **

**Iron Man.**

**Also, no Mentor question this chapter as only 2 Mentors have completed the last one. **


	11. Chapter 11 The City Circle

**11**

**The City Circle**

* * *

The City Circle in the Capitol, Panem, was ready for a celebration. The sun was just dipping below the horizon; music was starting to blare from speakers hidden inside the trees, and the atmosphere was electric. Claudius Templesmith straightened his jacket, and leaned into his microphone. The Assistant Producer gave Claudius a nod, and cued a loud drum roll. Claudius spoke into the mic. "Ladies and Gentleman, Boys and Girls, welcome, to the City Circle Tribute Parade! In just a few moments, 24 brave Tributes will ride on mighty chariots, representing their District, and get front row seats to an amazing speech by the one and only, President Coriolanus Snow!"

As soon as Claudius spoke the words, a yellow spotlight illuminated the Balcony jutting out from the Presidential Mansion. President Snow stood up and waved casually to the cheering crowd. He wore an impeccably tailored white suit, his beard was trimmed to perfection, and not a hair looked out of place. The man's eyes radiated a quiet, confident sense of complete power; the eyes of a man who had fought his way to the top of the world, and never left.

Once the President had taken his seat and the spotlight had been turned off, and a change of music signaled the Tributes arrival. Immediately the crowd went into frenzy. Just like when the Tributes arrived in the Capitol, chants of 'Judith! Judith! Judith!' could be heard loud above the noise. Although this time, there were a few other chants in the mix. "Citizens of Panem! Please welcome, your Tributes!" Loud cheers erupted from the crowd as a solid gold chariot emerged from the tunnel, being pulled by two white horses. "Representing District 1, Jack Banastre and… Judith Anastasia Merrrrridian!"

The Capitol completely lost it as Jack and Judith waved from their chariot. Jack wore an incredibly well tailored tuxedo, and smiled happily at the crowd, enjoying the atmosphere. Judith, the subject of an array of chants, whistles and even a few banners, looked simply stunning in a golden ball gown. Her hair had been tied up into a fancy bun, and she was showing just enough of her chest to get the Capitolites excited.

Behind District 1, an aluminium chariot trimmed with cut graphite emerged, symbolizing District 2's incredible masonry. The Tributes themselves were kitted out in uniforms from Squad 19, the elite Peacekeeper division responsible for protecting the Presidents Mansion. "From District 2, Illias Martell and Jade Lockheart!" The capacity crowd cheered loudly, but it was painfully obvious that their favourite Tribute had already ridden past. To their credit, Illias and Jade played their part well, using modified rifles to shoot small fireworks into the air.

"And representing District 3, Dylan Rye and Calliope Mayfonte!" The crowd let out a gasp as District 3's chariot rolled out. They were riding a two-wheeled chariot, with a body made entirely of one LED screen. As the Tributes rolled through the City Circle, their chariot produced amazing swirls and swishes of colour. Greens, blues, yellows, and reds. Every colour of the rainbow was being represented. Calliope wore a pink gown, with small white lights in her skirts. Dylan wore a white suit, with blue LEDS on his arms. Slightly spoiling the spectacle though, was the Tributes themselves. Dylan waved and smiled, but he looked incredibly overwhelmed by the situation. Calliope on the other hand, stared straight ahead at all times, not even acknowledging the crowd.

Once again, the music in the City Circle changed. This time, the sound from the speakers was deeper, _darker. _"Your Tributes from District 4," Claudius growled, "Azerrr Chistean and Marrrrrlowe Bastion!" The prow of a grand old fishing trawler broke through the curtain at the start of the City Circle. Water flowed down the sides of the chariot, and right off the back. Azer and Marlowe stood proudly still, a trident in one hand, a net in the other. The pair of them had been dressed like fishermen, but not the modern-day kind with oilskins and rubber gloves. They looked like warrior-fishermen from the Golden Age of Piracy. Their faces were covered in war paint, and their clothes were torn rags and armor plates and even a bandana.

* * *

"Come on Satin! Lets go!" The small boy tugged at her arm and hopped onto their chariot. It was a huge war chariot crafted from the wood found in District 7, Satin was skeptical about getting on it, quite frankly. It looked absolutely lethal, with spikes sticking out from the centre of the wheels, and spears mounted on the sides. Her District partner, Aursen Nicks, viewed the entire charade as one big adventure. Now secretly, Satin had a certain amount of admiration for the Capitol, but that didn't disguise the fact that they were here to be thrown into the Hunger Games. They were being sent here to die.

As Satin stepped onto their chariot, Aursen gave a loud gasp. "Look at that! It's like a fighter plane, or… or a…"

"It's modeled after the Capitol's Hovercraft Aursen, you know the ones they kill people with?" Satin said, staring at District 6's 'chariot', which was actually a miniature replica of a Hovercraft. The small, winged chariot hovered along on repulsorlifts while Bitte and Garret found their balance on its deck. The pair of them were dressed as porters, and honestly, it wasn't that bad. Satin had seen District 6 in much worse costumes before.

"Wicked!" the small boy exclaimed. Satin wasn't so impressed. Not because the D6 chariot wasn't cool, but she was for more enamored with the chariot being ridden by the pair from District 5. Malcolm and Alexia were riding on a four-wheeled chariot that propelled itself out of the curtain and around the City Circle to President Snow's Mansion. Four exhaust pipes protruded from each side of it, puffing out flumes of colorful smoke. Satin felt a little dull dressed as a Roman Legionnaire. Still, the show must go on.

* * *

_'The City Circle was ready for a celebration.'_

* * *

**A/N: **

**Heyy guys, **

**Here's the latest chapter, sorry the updates are slow. I have exams to study for right now. **

**I have a few questions for you guys. **

1) What are you most looking forward to in UtBF?

2) Who would you like to see get a POV in the Training Centre?

3) Best chariot design so far?

**And the Mentor question (worth 1 point, and another for answering all 3 questions above):**

In chapter 5, where does Garret Valens 'Saunter around like he owns the place'?

**Also, there is a new poll on my profile, it's a yes/no one this time, much easier. **

**Till the next, **

**Iron Man. **


	12. Chapter 12 Why do they look like dolls?

**Quick question: Who's still reading? **

* * *

**12**

**Why do they look like dolls?**

* * *

Celia Torrent's piercing blue eyes scanned the City Circle as the chariots rolled by. The chariots were an important part of the Games to her; they signified the beginning of each Tributes journey into the Games. She watched them go, one by one. District 5 rolling out in their self-powered chariot, plumes of coloured smoke rising from the exhaust. District 6 hovering through the curtain, both Tributes dressed like porters. District 7's Roman Legionnaires in their war chariot, District 8's Chariot, draped in luxurious fabrics, groaning under the weight of Obubu Mabebe in his expensive suit, dwarfing the small figure of Raelyn Macery in her sparkly red dress. District 9's chariot was shaped like a tiara, but made from wheat stalks, Persephone in her golden dress, Errol in a tailored suit, a sheaf of barley in his lapel.

Two large oxen broke free from behind the curtain, pulling a matte black armored off road vehicle behind them, the two girls from District 10 were both dressed as ranchers, although the designers had toned the look down somewhat. District 11 arrived in a Greek style war chariot, Nathan Cole wearing a black suit, trimmed with green, Aphra Maston in a red dress. Both Tributes wear casually biting into the finest apples from their District. District 12 made quite an entrance as well; their sleek chariot was carved from a single piece of polished coal, and trimmed out with aluminium. Belle and Jonah wore simple grey uniforms, akin to the mine inspectors from the District. It made a welcome change from coal miners.

As Celia watched the Tributes begin their journey into the unknown, she reflected back on her own journey to the Games. She'd grown up in the Capitol, with her parents, and her sister Corsica. They were rebels, all three of them. Her family hated the Capitol, and all it stood for. Celia didn't. She supposed she was a rebel in her own way. The way she was brought up had been helpful in some ways though; she didn't buy into the general perception of the Capitol, the flashy clothes, and the painted faces. They were all just a distraction to keep the citizens of the Capitol entertained, and keep the President in power.

For Celia's part, she simply ignored her parents rambling. She was sure they were just that; ramblings behind closed doors. She attended school dutifully, topped every class she ever took and was Valedictorian at her graduation. She'd won several sporting medals, most notably for gymnastics and, strangely, Tae Jut. Tae Jut was a martial art developed from all of the various forms of fighting that originated before Panem's creation. After graduating, Celia decided that her career lay with Panem's Peacekeeping division, much to her parents' disgust. She underwent two years of extensive paramilitary training, learning everything from handling weapons to surviving in the harshest environments, and jumping out of hovercrafts into battle.

Once she was done training, Celia had to pass the final exam. Every applicant who made it through training was placed into a group of 24, and sent into an Arena. If you wanted to earn a place in Squad 19, which she did, you had to be able to survive the Hunger Games. It was a necessary requirement penned by President Snow himself. Celia was crowned Victor in 4 hours flat, one of the quickest wins in Squad 19's history. She was immediately placed into the Presidential Guard, and was one member of a team responsible for Peacekeeping in the City Circle. After only 6 months, her sergeant recommended she be put to more effective use in a Shadow Team. The Shadow Teams were the elite of the elites, Panem's deadliest soldiers sent in for the sole purpose of eliminating threats, disposing of the evidence, and getting out.

Celia was great at her job. For 2 years she served Panem to the absolute best of her abilities, and Celia's absolute best was better than most Peacekeepers had ever seen in their lifetime. By the time she had turned 20, she was flying through the ranks of the military, she was on course to become Panem's Head Peacekeeper by the time she turned 25. Except, everything came crashing down around her. She would never become Head Peacekeeper of Panem.

4 days after her 20th birthday, Celia's team was conducting a HALO jump from 30,000 feet. The plan was fairly simple: The team would jump into the dead-zone between District 1 and the Capitol in the middle of the night, silently infiltrate District 1 and take out a small rebel group that had been quietly forming over the past month. This was just before the 31st Games, and District 1 wasn't quite the Career District it is today. As soon as Celia leapt from the hovercraft she knew something was badly wrong. It wasn't because anything had happened in the hovercraft, and the jump was going exactly as planned, but she could feel it in her gut. Something wasn't right.

She found out exactly what was wrong when she opened her parachute. Traveling at around 100mph, she could see the rest of her team shooting upwards as their chute's slowed them down. Celia's didn't. As she looked up, barely able to even see the parachute in the dark, she noticed a hole cut in the centre. Someone wanted her dead, and it could only have been someone on her team. Celia tried every maneuver in the book to slow down, but it only helped so much, at around 40mph she smacked into the ground. Several bones were broken, that was evident immediately. She had never felt pain like it in her entire life.

Once the rest of her team landed, they remorsefully came over to assess the damage. It wasn't good, and everyone knew it. As per the code of conduct, Celia was left to die while the rest of the team pressed ahead to carryout the mission. However, Celia wasn't one to die without a fight. Rather than sit screaming, Celia began to drag herself in the direction her team had began running. It took her several pain filled hours, but Celia managed to crawl all the way to District 1 before daybreak. Of course, she couldn't just turn up wounded in the middle of the District; she wasn't supposed to be there. In fact, the citizens of Panem weren't even supposed to know who she was, or what her job entailed. So Celia traveled slowly, in the shadows, to the only man she could trust.

* * *

Joseph Banastre was a contract killer from District 1, often hired by the Capitol to keep the Shadow Teams free for more important jobs. He lived on the outskirts of District 1, in a very low-key house so as not to draw attention to himself. Celia arrived at his residence just as the sun had fully risen. Joseph hadn't a clue whom she was, but he knew the uniform Celia wore was from a far more elite division of Panem's military than he was supposed to know nothing about. He asked no questions, he simply brought her inside, treated what injuries he could, and provided Celia with a means to contact Mission Control. She was discreetly transferred back to the Capitol and nightfall, and her nightmares began.

The diagnosis was a damning one. She'd broken 4 ribs, her left arm, and her right fibula. All of those bones would heal, but her left ankle had been completely shattered. Her military career was over. She wouldn't jump again, but that wasn't the worst news of the day. The group of Rebels found in District 1 included her own parents. They'd been executed on the spot, but not before a member of her team had identified them. Her family were traitors to the Capitol, and Celia herself was under investigation. It took 3 months, during which Celia tried to make an incredibly painful recovery without any medication - she'd been cut off while the investigation was underway – but Celia was cleared of any treachery. However, in order to be free from any charges, she had to prove her loyalty to the Capitol.

As soon as her bones had healed, she was put into another Arena, and sent through a second Games. This time it took her 9 hours. She thought that would be it, she thought her ordeal was over. Looking back, she must've been a very naïve 20 year old. Everything had come easy to her before, and now she actually had to struggle, to suffer in order to get what she wanted. Her sister Corsica had been on trial for a long time. She'd been tortured; she was frail and scared, and just wanted to go home, Celia sliced out her tongue, her own sister. Eventually, she would feel some remorse about it, but at the time Celia was furious. Her own family had thrown everything she had built for herself away in a matter of days, she couldn't be a part of the Shadow Teams anymore, and she'd been kicked from Squad 19. Turning Corsica into an Avox was her way of getting a small measure of revenge.

Eventually, Celia moved on from Peacekeeping. She met a wealthy Capitol man while working for a private security company, and married him within a few months. She even had a daughter with him, a little girl she named Ceres. That was nearly 20 years ago. Not long after Ceres was born, she took up a position as a lowly Gamemaker around the 33rd Games. 12 long years of work earned her the first of many promotions, it also broke up her marriage, and Celia slowly lost contact with her daughter. Fast forward a few years, Celia was promoted to Head Gamemaker. The Shadow Teams were slowly being dissolved as the need for them dwindled. Somewhere in all of those years, Celia discovered the man who had cut the hole in her parachute. His body was never found.

* * *

Celia turned her attention back to the chariots in front of her, as the Tributes prepared themselves for President Snow's speech. "Tributes, Citizens, welcome! Welcome, to the 51st Annual Hunger Games!" President Snow took a pause as the Capitol cheered. As he always did, he took this moment of pause to look each and every Tribute in the eye. Some looked at him with respect, some with determination, some with fear. In the end, they were just another batch of Tributes to him. But this year, they were Celia's Tributes, each and every one of them.

"At this stage, we need no reminder of the Dark Days. Panem has grown since then, and we, its citizens, thank the 24 of you for your sacrifice in order to maintain peace across our nation. Indeed, Panem is not the only thing that has grown in 51 years. The Hunger Games have evolved from their gruesome beginnings, and become a celebration not only of each District, but also of the brave boys and girls who are here to compete today. Congratulations on coming so far. Now, without me rambling any further; Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favour!" The crowd gave a hearty applause, and some more chants of 'Judith! Judith!' The girl in question feigned surprise, and waved as the cameras cut to her chariot as each of them began rolling away into the belly of the Tribute Centre.

"I think your chariot designs have been a success Celia," the President said to her as he sat back down, "a good start to the Games." Celia could only think of one reply.

"Why do they look like dolls?"

"Sorry?" The President looked confused.

"The girls from the Outer District's," Celia replied coolly, "why do they look like dolls?"

* * *

_'Turning Corsica into an Avox was her way of getting a small measure revenge,' _

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy guys,**

**Here is the second half of the Chariot rides, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you like getting a bit more history on Celia too. Also, the results of the poll were 100% yes, the Prep Teams should pay for what they've done to your Tributes. Only 2 people voted though, which was a huge disappointment. **

**So, questions: **

1) What did you find most shocking about Celia's history?

2) Does this chapter make you like Celia more, or dislike her more? Why?

3) If the Shadow Teams were still around for the 74th Games, do you think the 2nd Rebellion would have succeeded?

**Mentor question worth 1 point:**

During what edition of the Hunger Games did Celia earn her first promotion?

**Ok, thanks very much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! **

**Till the next, **

**Iron Man.**

**Ps, thank you to the Guest reviewer who checked out my website! I'm glad you liked it, and yes it took about 5 months! **


	13. Chapter 13 The Training Centre

**Heyy! So this chapter's a bit longer, and it's day 1, part 1 of Training! Who would you like to see in the next chapter? The first POV is definitely Aphra Maston, but I haven't decided who else to include yet. Also, read the Authors note!**

* * *

**13**

**The Training Centre**

* * *

Belle Rose picked gingerly at the fruit tart that had been placed on her plate. In around an hour she would be making her way down to the Training Centre, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She didn't want to be in the Hunger Games, she knew that. It wasn't really up for question. But she couldn't deny how overwhelming the Capitol was. Everything was so clean, and so fancy. The food tasting like nothing she'd ever had in her life, and the water in the showers was always warm. Everything Belle had encountered perfectly represented her Districts feeling towards the Capitol. Everyone resented the Capitol for forcing the Districts to compete in the Hunger Games, but the Capitol had a charm about it. When you looked out at the sprawling metropolis and gazed upon the wealth and success that had been created in those streets, it was inspiring, at least until the resentment crept back in.

"Belle!" She looked up, her District partner, Jonah, had been trying to talk to her for the last few minutes and she'd been locked away in her own world. He looked slightly agitated, and glared at her as though she'd just insulted his family. "I was trying to talk to you about sponsors! _Obviously _you're more interested in fruit and pastry."

"Sorry," Belle sighed, she really didn't think having sponsors would make much difference in the long run. She would be thrown into a harsh environment, with at least 6 people who were trained killers. Still, she humored him. "Do you have any suggestions?" She looked over at their Mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. He reared his head drunkenly off of the table and snorted.

"Don't die princess." Belle wasn't sure what she expected District 12's first Victor to be like, happier perhaps. But Haymitch was deliberately being unhelpful.

"Thank you for that marvelous idea," Belle replied with a little too much grandeur. She turned back to Jonah, who was now gnawing away at an apple turnover, and _she_ was supposedly the one more interested in fruit and pastry. "Jonah? Your ideas?"

"We have to appear more like a threat," He said with a full mouth, "District 12 is usually ignored because we aren't Careers."

"That's good, but it means we need a high training score. If you haven't noticed, sponsors go for the Tributes with highest scores, another reason 12 is usually ignored." Belle contemplated the situation. Jonah was on the right track, but Belle wasn't sure how to impress the Gamemakers. Though, she didn't really have a better idea. During training, she would have to impress the Gamemakers.

* * *

Amber-Rose Brown walked nervously through the door and into the Training Room for the first time. She'd been given a training outfit to wear while she was being taught how to kill people; the Capitol probably thought it was a nice touch. It wasn't. The fabric was itchy, and hugged her new, synthetic curves a little _too_ tightly, making her feel even more uncomfortable. The huge number 10 on her shoulder didn't help either. She was supposed to feel proud of her District, but she saw the number on her shoulder as a sign that she was a bloodbath. She didn't want to die.

Her District partner hadn't provided any solace either. Though Amber-Rose had tried talking to her, and tried getting to know her, Addison Thorne was one of those people who just didn't trust other people. She'd said something last night along the lines of 'don't try to ally with me, we all have to kill each other in the end, there's no point trying to be friends.' With that still on her mind, Amber-Rose made her way into the Training Room.

The space was enormous. On her left stood hundreds of racks full of the deadliest weapons you could imagine. Swords, spears, crossbows and thousands of other horrors were hung on hooks or resting on shelves. The remaining Tributes shuffled in behind her, and the door to the Training Room closed with a bang. Only the Careers, who were easily identified, seemed at perfect ease. District 2 adopted a military stance in the centre of the room, while Districts 1 and 4 strolled around and surveyed the weapon racks.

"Tributes!" Boomed the voice of the entering Celia Torrent, "Gather round, quickly! Don't test my patience." Every one of the Outer District Tributes rushed towards Celia in a panic, and formed a very crude half-circle around her. The Careers strolled a lot more casually. Celia's face remained a wall of impenetrable stone. "Over the next three days, you will be allowed to train for the upcoming Hunger Games. At each station you will find trainers who can help you prepare for the Games…"

"Hah," the District 4 male snorted, "I'm prepared for everything and…" The monstrous boy would have to complete his sentence in a few hours, when he regained consciousness. Amber-Rose had barely seen her move, but Celia had knocked him out with an incredible kick to the face. She couldn't believe a woman so small had just laid the largest monster Amber-Rose had ever seen flat on his back so easily. Many of the Tributes around her were shocked, even horrified. Some, like Marlowe Bastion, stifled a laugh. Amber-Rose couldn't blame them, if she wasn't so scared stiff herself she would've laughed at how comical it was.

"Evidently not," Celia continued unfazed, nobody would be interrupting her again today. "Before you are free to train at whatever station you please, each day you will be put through a series of mandatory exercises, the first of which will take place on the raised floor panel on your left. Please make your way over there now." The rest of the Tributes who remained conscious took up a place on the floor.

"So, what do we do?" A smaller boy from District 9 that Amber-Rose remembered as Errol called out. The Head Gamemaker tapped away casually at a data pad before answering.

"Don't fall over."

* * *

Jade Lockheart was about to ask the very obvious question 'what do you mean don't fall over?' when the floor beneath her tilted incredibly violently to about 45º, answering said question. Nearly all of the Tributes fell over, save Marlowe Bastion from District 4, Jack Banastre from 1, and surprisingly, Errol Ford from 9. Jade picked herself up as the floor became level again, rather embarrassed that she hadn't been able to stay on her feet. Celia pressed some more buttons on her tablet, and everyone crouched expecting the floor to move again, instead, it gently vibrated, and then rocked back and forth slowly. This lasted for just long enough to lull everyone into a false sense of security, before Celia tapped a button and sent the floor panel spinning, and then rocking violently from side to side.

Jade, along with a few other Tributes, did a better job of staying upright this time. A lot of the Tributes from the Outer Districts, such as 11 and 12, were being thrown around like dolls, unable to get to their feet. The Head Gamemaker, who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, stopped the floor from spinning and tapped more commands into her tablet. Jade braced herself for what was coming next. The floor started to rise slowly at one end. Thinking on her feet, Jade scrambled toward it. 6 Tributes who would probably turn out to be her allies, including her District partner Illias Martell, followed suit. It was the right idea, as the remaining Tributes had to try and climb a wall that was becoming almost vertical. Dylan Rye made it to the top, and reached back to help some of the other Tributes. He was being far too kind; it would get him killed. Jade, and anyone who could be identified as a 'Career' neglected to help anyone.

Helping weaker people in the Arena gets you killed. That was something that had been instilled in Jade during her first week at the Academy. During her second week, they had continuously run an assault course to improve their fitness. From that point on, they ran the course every morning before classes. People who didn't know any better, assumed the Career Academy was one giant room where children got trained to kill people. That assumption couldn't be further from the truth. The Academy was a proper school. Everyone in the District began their secondary education there; the assault courses were to keep everyone in the District fit and healthy. Anyone who wished to take part in training for the Hunger Games did so after classes. District 2 was very strict about it. School first, training later. Of course, around 90% of the children at the Academy took part in Training.

Another thing the Academy did was synchronizing the end of the school year with the Reaping for the Hunger Games. As many of the District's best-trained students wanted to volunteer for the Games, it was turned into an end of year competition. The fastest around the largest of three Assault Courses, by any means necessary, would be the Volunteer for the Games that year. This usually ended up with a lot of people in hospital. Jade had won the female event by 35 seconds. Not as great a lead as she would have liked, but she did break her ankle halfway through the course, so at least she still came out on top.

Still clinging onto the edge of the floor, which was just reaching vertical, Jade turned to see the Outer Districts fall on top of each other as they failed to hold on. She wanted to laugh, but her own muscles were screaming for oxygen and she wasn't sure just how long Celia Torrent planned on having them up in the air. Just as the floor hit the vertical mark, Jade's question was answered. With fairly incredible force, the floor panel slammed downward. Everyone still clinging on was thrown into the air, and left to fall a few feet. Jade's only saving grace, she thought as she was thrown facedown at speed, was that the floor had been padded, if only slightly.

Without giving them much time to recover, Celia ordered them to their feet. "Get up. Follow me, your next exercise has been prepared." Everyone rose groggily to their feet and made to follow the Head Gamemaker. She stopped at one of the Peacekeepers in the room and jerked a thumb in the direction of Azer Chistaen, who still laid out on his back. "Wake him up." Jade grimaced as the Peacekeeper walked over to the unconscious monster and prodded him with a shock-rod*.

* * *

_'Addison Thorne was one of those people who just didn't trust other people.'_

* * *

Notes:

*Shock-rod: A thin rod or baton that emits a charge of 5,000 volts. It works similarly to a Tazer, and is commonly carried by Peacekeepers.

* * *

**A/n:**

**So, the last few days have been interesting for me. I'm sure you know why, and therefore I don't need to talk more about it. I think I might leave the open letter I wrote on my profile. I was very happy to receive a message from someone who had seen it and been encouraged to continue writing, after going through a similar situation! Now that I have tackled that problem, it's time I tackled the problems with UtBF! I can't do it alone though, I need your help! I don't always spot the same problems as you guys, so I need you to review, PM me or any other way you want to get in touch and tell me what you would like to see fixed! **

**If you're not sure where to start, then answer these three questions:**

1) Who do you think has the best POV in this chapter, and who needs improved?

2) What do you think can be improved in the next chapter? More detail, more backstory, more interaction etc...

3) You'll see I added a note explaining what a shock-rod is. UtBF will include a lot of terms some of you might not be familiar with, should I continue to add footnotes like this?

**Also, the Mentor question for those still taking part. It's very easy this time, you get a point just for answering, and non-mentors can answer too.**

What do you think the design is for this years Arena?

**Well, I hope to see you all next chapter! **

**Iron Man. **


	14. Chapter 14 The Training Arena Part 1

**Heyy guys, I know this has taken some time. I've been studying for exams, which take place next week, and I haven't had time to focus on my stories. I hope you understand, and thank you for your patience. **

* * *

**14**

**The Training Arena Part 1**

* * *

Aphra Maston dropped to the floor and lay there. She had miraculously completed the Training Centre's rigorous assault course, the final task being to half climb, half hang underneath a net suspended 12ft in the air. She'd never been put through anything like it in District 11. She was a field worker; she wasn't cut out for clambering around in the air and hopping across ledges and ducking giant hammers that swung from the ceiling. As she lay there on the floor, sweat dripping profusely from her body, another girl collapsed on the spot right next to her. The girl was slightly taller than Aphra, though she was a year younger. She had put several colors of dye in her hair, and the fact that they didn't run onto the floor because of all the sweat pouring out of her was a small miracle. Aphra recognized her as Rae, the girl who had freaked out when the Capitol had removed her previous dye job. Evidently she had gotten her hands on more.

"Was it that bad for you as well?" the girl let out a small laugh as she tried to recapture her breath.

"Like a nightmare," Aphra nodded before introducing herself, "I'm Aphra."

"Rae," the girl replied picking herself up off the floor. "You'd think that because they're sending us to die we wouldn't have to do exercise too, but here we are," Rae pointed skywards to the net that Azer Chistaen was groggily making his way across, "pointlessly wandering across the roof." Aphra nodded her agreement; she'd much prefer to have a relaxing few days eating the Capitol's food before heading into the Arena.

"At least we didn't get knocked out by the Head Gamemaker," Aphra leaned in closer so nobody else could hear, "She's so scary!" As if on cue, the Head Gamemaker called all of the Tributes over. Aphra and Rae made their way to where Celia was standing. Everyone was being careful not to get to close, and as if sensing this, Celia stepped forward into the half-circle the Tributes had formed before continuing.

"Tributes, you have now completed the second of three mandatory tasks. You may now train at whatever station you wish for the next two hours, the third task begins after lunch. I expect you all to be waiting by that door," Celia pointed to a large door at the far end of the room, "by the time I arrive." With that, Celia turned and left the Training Centre, leaving the Tributes to their own devices. Naturally, the Tributes from 1, 2 and 4, as well as Persephone from 9 headed off to the Weapon Station.

"Well, I'm not going over there." Aphra muttered under her breath. Rae, who was still by her side, nodded her agreement. Aphra looked to her for some suggestions, not entirely sure why she had already decided to trust the girl after only 10 minutes in her company. It was likely a very dangerous idea, but Rae seemed quite genuine. Besides, Aphra didn't much rate her chances in the Hunger Games, having a friend in the Arena might not even help against a pack of Careers, but at least she wouldn't be alone.

"Why don't we try some of the survival stations?" Rae asked, her eyes almost pleading. Aphra understood. Between them, they had a need for company. Aphra nodded, and the two made their way over to an empty station containing some rather interesting looking plants and berries. An instructor sat with them for around half an hour, describing in painful detail which plants were edible or useful, and also describing in incredibly graphic detail what would happen if you ate the wrong one.

Aphra spent the entire morning with Rae, checking out the different Survival Stations in the Training Room, and even having a pretty shocking go with a sword while the Careers had decided to leave the Weapons Station and head off somewhere. In the back of her mind, Aphra wondered what had taken the Careers from their precious weapons, but then she heard a series of loud bangs coming from behind her. Evidently she wasn't the only one who'd heard what was going on, as many of the other Tributes had left their stations to come and see what all the noise was.

Aphra and Rae - still carrying their swords, which weren't supposed to leave the station - poked their heads around the wall to see an enormous firing range, which they had somehow missed out while exploring the Training Centre. The Career Alliance, which hadn't taken long at all to form, were busy firing live rounds from cannons and huge rifles and unspeakable weapons which could lay down all kinds of hate into a huge wall that had been heavily reinforced to take fire from all kinds of ammunition. "Wow." Aphra muttered under her breath. The sheer power that some of the cannons seemed to have boggled Aphra's mind. Would these weapons be available in the Arena? She didn't want to think about it. If the Careers got their hands on that kind of heavy artillery outside of the Training Room, nobody else would stand a chance.

Shaking her head, Aphra headed to put her sword back onto its stand. There was only five minutes until lunch anyway. "It doesn't seem fair, does it?" Rae asked, putting her own weapon back onto the racks. "First we have to try and figure out how to beat trained killers, and now they've been given huge cannons too." Aphra nodded, before her memory reflected back to Rae's Reaping, and made her suspicious of her new friend.

"Didn't you volunteer for the Games?" The tension was instantly there. Rae nodded.

"I volunteered for my friend. He died in the bloodbath last year; I decided to volunteer in his honour. It was kinda stupid really." Rae continued talking as they made their way to lunch. "We all used to live in this abandoned RV, me and all my friends, we were 'runaways', though our parents still cooked us food if we needed it, and bought our clothes. We were really beating the system. Then Inigo got Reaped last year.

None of us took it seriously at first. We all congratulated him and told him we'd be here when he got back. He died second. It took a while for it to sink in. He wasn't coming back. We wouldn't see Inigo again. That's part of the reason I volunteered."

"And the other part of your reason?" Aphra asked.

"I wanted to prove we could do it. I wanted to prove that some crazy kid from District 8 had just as much chance of winning as the Careers. I'm not so sure now." Rae looked solemnly into a plate of pasta. Aphra stayed silent.

* * *

Persephone Barley re-entered the Training Room having fuelled up for the second training session. She couldn't understand the Tributes that shuffled uncomfortably around the cafeteria, deciding what to eat, and who they were going to sit with. In Persephone's mind, it was quite simple. You walk into the cafeteria, find protein, glucose and water, and align yourself with the Tributes who have a higher chance of success. You have no idea what food will be available in the Arena, so it's best not to be picky, and finding good allies can be pivotal to becoming a Victor. That didn't necessarily mean allying with the Careers, but currently that seemed like Persephone's best option.

First off you have Azer and Marlowe, two monsters from District 4. Azer might have been knocked out by the Head Gamemaker ten seconds into Training, but he wasted no time in muscling his way back into the pack. Marlowe would likely never face that problem. Then you had Jack Banastre, who Persephone had witnessed cut a dummy in half with a throwing knife from 20ft away, it really was impressive. His District partner, Judith, had failed to make any impression on Persephone. She could use a range of weapons and she was athletic, but so were all of the other Careers. Still, she was a part of the Alliance, and if all else failed, her boobs could earn them some favors with wealthy Capitol men. Persephone had to hold back a laugh. Day one and here she was prostituting her allies to further her cause.

"Where's this stupid Head Gamemaker at?" Persephone turned to the source of the voice. It was Obubu Mabebe, and he seemed to be talking to no one in particular. Nor did he seem to put any thought into whether or not it was a good idea to voice his opinions.

"You mean the woman who knocked out the strongest person in the room not three hours ago?" Persephone replied with all the poise and grace expected of a lady with her lineage.

"Hah," the gorilla replied, "he's not stronger than me." Persephone hated the way he leered at her, as if he had a chance. He was a near 400 pound, arrogant, beady-eyed waste of space. He wasn't stronger than Azer, and Persephone knew the District 4 male wasn't too far behind them. Obubu would die first. She was certain of it, and even more so, she'd like to be the one to make sure of it.

"Tributes," Celia Torrent jumped down from one of the climbing nets bolted to the ceiling. Persephone hadn't even noticed she was there, and judging by the muffled gasps coming from behind her, nobody else had either. "Good afternoon. I trust that your lunch break gave you time to reflect on all you have learned this morning." Celia didn't wait for an answer. "As soon as I receive word that it's safe, we will be heading through that door," Celia gestured behind her, "and into the Training Arena." This time Celia waited for a response. Ever the lady her parents had raised her to be, Persephone held up a hand lightly. The Head Gamemaker nodded, ready to receive her question.

"Ma'am, what exactly is a _Training Arena_?" Persephone smiled slightly. Making a good impression with the Head Gamemaker might benefit her in the Arena, and Persephone knew full well that people in a position of authority liked to be treated as such.

"I'm glad you asked," Celia smiled, and it actually seemed genuine, as if, for a fleeting moment, she had broken free of the cold, intimidating exterior and shown her true self. A woman, filled with a passion for her job and a desire to do well. "The Training Arena, a new feature this year which you should be honoured to have at your disposal, is exactly as the name suggests a _Training _Arena, emphasis on the word _training_. Inside, you will find a miniaturized replica of some of the terrain you could end up facing inside the real Arena. You'll be able to set fires, use weapons – _not _against the other Tributes; we have holograms for you to contest with – and all of the foods that you can forage for, as well as the animals you can hunt, are both real and entirely edible. After you have spent the remainder of today's training session inside the Arena, it will be open all day tomorrow. However, should anyone take it upon themselves to break the rules, they will be ejected from the room, and the privilege of the Training Arena will not be extended to them again." A series of small beeps from Celia's Tablet broke the silence. "Tributes, follow me into your new training station."

Persephone followed eagerly behind the Head Gamemaker as she walked through the wide doors, which had hissed open. The sight before her was beyond impressive. It was magnificent. Row upon row of palm trees lined the left wall, creating what appeared to be a dense forest. A large tent had been erected on the shores of a sandy beach, and crystal blue water stretched for what seemed like miles. Right at the far end of the 'sea', Persephone could make out the unmistakable shape of a Cornucopia. Small, wooden rowboats that wouldn't look out of place on an old fishing trawler from a time long past, were moored up along the shoreline. "Begin." Celia breathed softly. The 24 Tributes charged.

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy, **

**So I've been away for a bit, but I am glad I got this chapter out. Only 2 POV's this chapter, but I think it helps to develop specific characters if I cut the number of POV's down. Everything is moving along as planned, and rest assured I am keeping a chart that counts how many POV's each Tribute has had so far. But, if you would like to see your Tribute like right this second, then just ask. Some characters I have been holding, either for later in Training, the Interviews, or the Games. However, I don't have everyone's place decided, so suggestions are welcome. **

**As for this chapter, I hope you liked the three girls who took centre stage. We certainly learn about Rae the most, though I'm sure you can tell Aphra will get her chance to share her history with us too. Persephone's POV was a fun one for me, we certainly more about her personality rather than her backstory, but the hints are there if you read her thoughts, and reflect back to her Reaping. She is someone you'll read more about. **

**So, question time then:**

1\. What did you think of the blossoming friendship between Aphra and Rae?

2\. Do you like Persephone? Do you dislike her? What are your reasons?

3\. What are your thoughts on the Training Arena? Useful tool, or a waste of the Capitol's money?

4\. Who would you like to see next? I'd like to write some of the boys, they don't have enough POV's. I guess I find it easier to write girls, which is quite odd I suppose.

(Jalen, I know you want to see Nathan, he's coming. I promise.)

**and the Mentor question, sorry I forgot about it:**

Persephone enters the cafeteria to find what?

**So, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! **

**Iron Man. **

**Ps. Kopycat, Katrace and I have started a new community, which you can find on our profiles, and we're adding all of the best Hunger Games stories out there to our archive! You'll probably recognise quite a few popular stories, in fact I'm fairly certain you will. We are one of the fastest growing Hunger Games C2's out there, and if you'd like to recommend a story for the archive, or you want to send us your own, then PM me. I'm sure Katrace and ****Copycat would be equally open to ****receiving recommendations too. **

**Ok, thanks. Bye. **


	15. Chapter 15 The Training Arena Part 2

**Heyy guys, exams are over now, and I'm back after a good month off of FanFiction. I hope you like the chapter. **

* * *

**15**

**The Training Arena Part 2**

* * *

Errol Ford knew he shouldn't be having this much fun. Now, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, admittedly, but he knew the Hunger Games weren't supposed to be fun. Were they? Perhaps if you were a Career Tribute, but not if you were a farmer from District 9. That relegated you to being cannon fodder. Yet as Errol and 23 other Tributes dashed out into the expansive Training Arena, he couldn't help but smile a little bit. The whole lot of them had charged through the doors, without any real sense of direction, and spread out across the truly enormous room. Errol himself had headed straight for the water. He hadn't done very much swimming in District 9 - though in the summer, kids quite often paddled in the huge water ponds that supplied the farms' irrigation systems – and so he was keen to try and see what he could do. Somewhere in the back of his mind Errol came to the realization that he, and whoever else was swimming, had completely disregarded the fact that they were still wearing their training gear and that they didn't have anything to dry off with, and then, concluding that he didn't care, Errol set off for the Cornucopia at the far end of the 'sea'.

It took him four attempts to realize that as soon as he got within about 10 metres of the Cornucopia, an artificial tide would wash him backwards. Errol tread water for a moment, deciding what to do. The Gamemakers wouldn't have bothered placing a Cornucopia in the room if there was no way to get to it, there must be a way, Errol would just need to find it, and find it he did. As Errol turned towards the sand that he had swum from, he was almost run over by one of the small rowboats that had littered the beach. Azer Chistaen was on the oars, and Errol sensed that he felt no remorse for nearly flattening him. One by one, the Career pack passed Errol by in the tiny rowboats, some were better at it than others. Errol had memorized nearly all of their names at this point, he didn't like to plan anything out, but he thought it might be important to start remembering the name and District of those trying to kill him. At the forefront of his mind were Jack and Judith from 1, Illias and Jade from 2, the monsters from 4 and his District partner Persephone, from 9. The whole lot of them put fear into Errol's heart, the kind he'd never felt before, and they had all just shot past him towards the Cornucopia at the far end of the Training Arena. With that in mind, Errol turned away from them and swam.

It took Errol a lot less time to get out of the water than he'd thought it would – he was on the sand in about a minute – but it was easy to mistake the Training Arena as some vast, mile wide space. In truth, it was only about a couple hundred metres in each direction, so he didn't have far to swim at all. When he pulled himself out of the water, which he'd only just come to realize was actually quite cold, he was greeted on the artificial beach by the girl from 10, or one of the girls from 10. Errol briefly remembered seeing the District 10 Reapings on the train; the girl who had volunteered was the girl standing in front of him now, what was her name?

"Enjoy swimming?" the girl asked. The girl had curly brown hair, and stunning green eyes that Errol was beginning to get lost in. She had obviously been in the water too, as she was absolutely soaked from head to toe, and Errol desperately tried – and ultimately failed – to hold back a furious blush as he caught a glimpse of the way the training uniform was clinging to her body. Errol strained his neck and kept his eyes a little too-obviously locked on her face, which wasn't an easy task; despite being only 13, he was a good half a foot taller than the girl.

"Eh y-yeah. K-kinda cold though." _Smoothly done _Errol thought.

"I know," the girl replied, "we're trying to make a fire to warm us up, I thought you might want to join us." She nodded her head towards a group of Tributes huddled on the edge of the tree line, a couple of the older boys were working furiously with sticks to try and light a small pile of tinder that they'd collected. Errol nodded, and the two of them started walking. "I'm Amber-Rose." The girl held out a hand. _That _was her name.

"Errol Ford," he replied, shaking the hand she had offered him.

"Why do you think they have this huge room built? I mean, it's a good idea, and it _is _nice to feel like we're getting out of the Training Centre, but why wait 51 years to build this place instead of having it here from day 1?"

"I don't know," Errol conceded, "Perhaps it means that the Games are changing somehow, which can't be good."

"Mmm," Amber nodded, "if they want us to train in a 'real' environment, they must want us to survive for longer, most Games only last around 3 days, and a lot of Tributes die from hunger or thirst or cold. But in here all of the plants and animals are real, and they can't kill us yet, and I'd wager that the same plants and animals wouldn't suddenly become poisonous in the Arena. They're preparing us to survive, and I'm scared about why."

* * *

Their little group was growing. Malcolm watched them out of the corner of his eye, the outer District Tributes, they'd started forming an alliance, or just a group, Malcolm wasn't exactly sure. He could be over there with them, he didn't have a problem with any of them – in fact, he got on well with his District partner, Lexi, and the girl who called herself Satin Valentine was truly a sight to behold – but Malcolm was enjoying an afternoon to himself. He'd grabbed a tomahawk axe from the weapons station, with the Head Gamemakers permission, and had begun some target practice against a large palm tree in the far corner of the room. He'd been improving, after a somewhat embarrassing start, and had now hit the same mark on the tree four times in a row. After a fifth successive hit, Malcolm decided to try something different. This time when he picked the axe out of the tree, instead of walking back for another throw, he swung the axe hard, and cut into the tree trunk about halfway. After a bit of a struggle pulling the axe out, Malcolm swung again, and the tree fell, luckily not towards him, or he'd have been flattened.

Malcolm had only cut the tree down to see if he could do it, but upon some examination of his handiwork, a thought occurred to him. If every plant or animal in the Training Arena was edible, then the coconuts that had just fallen from his tree should be fine for consumption. Malcolm picked one up and weighed it in his hand, it felt like he thought a real coconut should; not that he could really tell, he'd never had a coconut in his life. Deciding to test the Head Gamemakers word, Malcolm carefully rested the coconut on the stump of the fallen palm tree, and readied his axe. With a mighty swing Malcolm sent two halves of a coconut flying across the sand. Carefully shaking any sand from the coconut, Malcolm took his first ever bite of an exotic fruit. The flesh of the coconut was sweet, a little too sweet for Malcolm's taste, but he enjoyed it all the same.

Malcolm weighed the tomahawk axe in his hand. He was really beginning to appreciate the weapon, not only was it good for medium range defense, but it had proven equally adept at slicing down trees, and prepping food, a truly versatile weapon and tool if ever there was one. He knew he'd feel a lot more comfortable in the Arena with one by his side, but what if he couldn't get a hold of one? The Careers ruled the Cornucopia; everyone knew that. Sure, people had fantasies of taking them on with a large alliance, but in truth, most of that alliance would either die or run away in terror. Malcolm wasn't so naïve. Even if he could reach the Cornucopia and grab an axe, how many Careers would he have to try and kill to make it out again? Too many, especially judging by this years Career pack, which already had seven members. But what if he could become the eighth member? Unlikely. Another option, which Malcolm had only begun to consider, but was sure not to like, would be to craft his own weapon. The survival stations, in which he'd spent the morning paying more attention to the Tributes around him – trying to learn more about them by observing their behavior – instead of the skills he was supposed to be learning, had some handcrafted weapons on display, one of them was an axe made of wood and stone. It wouldn't be nearly as good as the sleek metal tomahawk he was currently holding, but it would be better than nothing.

Malcolm weighed up his options. Try and learn to create a working axe in two days and hope he'd find the materials to build it in the Arena, or try to elbow his way into the Career pack and simply pick any weapon that he fancied? He'd like to be prepared for both scenarios. Making his decision, Malcolm crossed the beach and made his way to a tower where the Head Gamemaker was keeping watch. "Miss Torrent?" Malcolm called up. The piercing blue eyes of Celia Torrent appeared over the edge of the railing she was stood behind.

"Yes Mr. Halberd?" She replied.

"May I be excused to the Training Room? I'd like to work on a few things."

"And what might those things be Mr. Halberd?" Malcolm explained to the Head Gamemaker what he'd like to do in the Training Room, and Celia had a Peacekeeper escort him back through the large door and out of the Training Arena. If his actions drew any eyes his way, Malcolm didn't notice. He was already making his way to his chosen station. He would do whatever it took to survive the Games. Whatever it took.

* * *

Calliope Mayfonte stayed as quite as possible hiding in the undergrowth. Her breathing was steady, and her eyes were focused. Those fools out playing in the sand had completely missed the wealth of opportunity that was out in the Training Arena's forest of palm trees. Not that she expected less of them. After a short exploration of the forest, Calliope had come across a small encampment in amongst the trees. She'd found the tools to make a fire, a small shelter, and an assortment of hunting weapons, two of which she was carrying with her. In her right hand she carried a spear, and a crossbow was slung across her shoulder. About 5 metres in front of her, by Calliope's estimation, was a small rabbit. It wasn't anything impressive, but it did have good ears; Calliope had missed it three times with the crossbow already, and decided she would try her luck with the spear.

Calliope slowed her breathing, and tightened her muscles. She had tunnel vision now; all she could see was the rabbit at the end of her spear, about to be impaled. Calliope held her breath, and threw. She hadn't hit the rabbit, not square anyway, but its foot had been nearly cut off. To give the rabbit credit where it was due, it still managed to hop fairly fast on three feet, but not fast enough. She finished it off with the crossbow. It wasn't a clean shot by any means, but it didn't need to be, all it had to do was hit the target and kill it. Calliope stalked over to her prey. There wasn't much left of the rabbit, the spear had taken off a good chunk of its leg, and the crossbow bolt had driven itself right through the back of its head. Still, this was a learning opportunity, and Calliope had done well on her first hunt. But now she had to cook her kill, and she had to do it without drawing attention to herself, much unlike the other Tributes, who although now successful in building a fire, had also caused a huge plume of smoke. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Calliope wondered how they hadn't all been choked to death, but concluded that the room must be well ventilated.

Calliope tracked back to the small shelter she had found, and looked for something to make a fire with. Something had changed; Calliope could sense it. Something was different about her surroundings. Nothing had been disturbed, but something was out of place, she could feel it. It only took her a few moments to find it. Someone – Calliope assumed it was the Head Gamemaker, who seemed to posses an array of talents – had placed a survival book underneath the small shelter. More than this though, a page had been bookmarked. Calliope checked her surroundings, and sat down to read.

_When preparing the Caribbean Rabbit, skewer it through the mid-section as neat and straight as is possible, (after skinning and gutting, see pg.45 for detailed instructions) in order to conserve meat and reduce waste. Suspend the rabbit on the skewer by driving a pair of pronged sticks into the ground, slightly wider apart than the fire pit, and be sure it can turn freely. _

_After gathering sufficient wood and tinder, build your fire in a clear, dry area away from potential predators. It's best to always keep a weapon close at hand when preparing your fire. Use matches, a fire-steel, or rub two dry sticks together in order to create a spark and light the tinder. It's a good idea to blow gently on the tinder to help the fire catch. Once the tinder is properly lit, begin slowly adding smaller pieces of wood to the fire, and gradually add larger pieces as the flames grow higher. Only a small fire is needed to cook a rabbit, as long as there is sufficient heat. _

_Once the fire has gotten up to temperature, place the skewered rabbit over the flames, and turn it periodically for even cooking. Once the meat has browned, it should be safe to eat, but do break it open and check it isn't pink on the inside. Caribbean Rabbits contain a large variety of bones, and the best way to avoid swallowing any of them is to peel the meat of off the bone before eating, rather than simply biting into the rabbit. _

Underneath the printed writing, a small note had been scribbled on the bottom of the page.

_Peccha berries (located around three metres to the left of your encampment) will reduce the smoke considerably if you burn them on top of the fire, and are also a good source of Vitamin C, if you can stomach them. Less smoke also makes the rabbit taste better, in my opinion. You might also consider building a canopy of palm fronds over the fire to mask the glow, if you have the time. _

_Enjoy the rabbit,_

_CT. _

Around three quarters of an hour later, having followed Celia's advice to the letter, Calliope was tucking into her first kill. The rabbit was rather tasty and succulent, if she was honest; it had turned out a lot better than expected. She had also tried eating some of the berries, but as Celia had alluded to in her note, they tasted absolutely awful and she spat them onto the fire after only a single bite. They had kept the smoke to a minimum though, which pleased her. She enjoyed having found her own space in which to train without anyone bothering her. She only hoped her secret wouldn't be found out. Calliope was not a people person. She would ally with the Careers if they bothered to ask, but she wouldn't go seeking them out herself. She had managed fine on her own so far, why would it be any different in the Arena? Finishing the rabbit, and feeling sufficiently re-fuelled, Calliope left the dying fire – a Peacekeeper would surely be along to put it out once she was out of sight – and began to sneak her way towards the exit, hoping not to be noticed. Somewhere behind her, Jack Banastre watched from the shadows as the girl exited the forest. He would report his findings to Persephone later.

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy, so I'm back. A lot of people have been cancelling SYOT's lately, so I figured it was important to make sure you all know that isn't the case with Under the Black Flag, and will never be so long as one person still wants to read it. That being said - I saw this work well for Jalen's story, figured I'd try the same - I've noticed the review count dropping since, well chapter 1 to be quite honest. Some of you have tributes in this story and haven't reviewed once, which is fine, but it does mean ****that I have no clue as to whether or not you like my interpretation of your Tribute, and therefore I'm less inclined to keep them alive, especially this close to the Games. So, I would appreciate to hear from some more of you, but if not, no hard feelings. I have three, sometimes four, great reviewers who I love to hear from! They know who they are. **

**So now that I am back on the site properly, I have PM's to reply to, I owe Jalen, Skye and Katrace at least one review I'm sure, I have a c2 to manage, and Nia is still missing. Wantwootree has a story I'm going to read when it's published, and I'm looking forward to Sakura's Harry Potter story when it arrives too! But before I do all that, I have some questions for you! **

1\. Who was your favourite Tribute to read during this chapter?

2\. Now that you've seen it in action, what are your thoughts on the Training Arena?

3\. Out of the three Tributes you've seen in this chapter, which do you think shows the most potential?

**And of course, the Mentor question for this chapter:**

What kind of berries are thrown onto Calliope's fire to hide the smoke?

**Well, enjoy!**

**Iron Man. **

**Kidding, this a longer author's note than that! **

**It's mainly just to tell you about a couple of things. Number one, UtBF has a cover image now, just incase you didn't notice. I hope you like it! Second thing, there are a couple of Easter eggs in this chapter that allude to the Arena's location. Brownie points if you can spot them. Also, there is a semi-accurate description of how to build a fire which I half-heartedly remember from my days in the Scouts. As you can see, this chapter is all about the Tributes learning new skills. The next chapter will deal with strategy! **

**Ok, thanks, **

**Iron Man. **


	16. Chapter 16 What is Your Strategy?

**16**

**What is your strategy?**

* * *

Celia Torrent sat alone in the command centre, watching the Tributes' Common Room. It was a little known fact that such a room even existed; given the nature of the Hunger Games one would expect interaction between the Tributes to be limited, in actual fact, the Common Room allowed Tributes to interact with each other free from Peacekeepers and Gamemakers alike, although the Capitol still had every manner of control should a scuffle occur. During the first few Games, the Common Room was in frequent use, but as the Career Academies began forming, and Districts 1, 2 and 4 started treating the Games as a sporting contest, use of the room began to dwindle. Occasionally, the Career Alliances would hold meetings, parties, and one particularly eventful evening during the 36th Games involving a game of polo with a roasted chicken that Celia could not delete from her memory no matter how hard she tried. Watching the Tributes unwind, and behave like normal children should, had made the long nights running simulations slightly more bearable for Celia, but as the Games progressively darkened, the Common Room slowly emptied.

Not tonight though. For the first time in seven years, the lights had been turned on, though they were heavily dimmed, and the sound of hushed voices could be heard emitting from a shadowy corner of the room. Celia observed the pair of them in peaceful solitude, listening intently to their secret conversation through a series of microphones hidden around the room. The pair of them had obviously snuck away from their respective District Quarters, but this was no forbidden lovers tryst, this was a strategy meeting, and an interesting one too. Celia leaned closer to the screen, her blonde hair brushing lightly against the control panel, her ears still listening with the extreme sensitivity that she had trained them too many, many years ago.

"Something is off," Jack Banastre met the gaze of Persephone Barley with a gritty determination in his eyes, "Judith's become more distant, and is Azer really the one who should be calling the shots? They are all useful combatants, but I don't think they have a foolproof strategy, in fact, I don't think they have much of a strategy at all. They all assume they're going to walk in, clean up the Outers and then get down to killing each other, like every Career battle strategy ever devised."

"And so you suggest we just ditch them, take off on our own, paint a huge target on our backs, and hope the five of them don't catch us?" Persephone replied coolly, "It doesn't seem like you've got much of a strategy either."

"I don't, I have part of one," Jack conceded, "the Outers aren't all stupid, they know that we'll be coming after them, and they'll want to avoid us at all costs, but they've been thinking further ahead than that. Today in the Training Arena I overheard one of the girls from 10 say something that grabbed my attention, 'they're preparing us to survive' ".

"Oh how considerate of them!" Persephone held a hand to her chest, "I thought I would be wasting my remaining 3 days in the Capitol indulging in fine foods and trying to keep all the boys eyes looking up instead of down, now I really feel a sense of purpose." Persephone snapped her fingers, as Jack's own eyes mirrored her words.

"You know its true," Jack hissed back, "in everything you've learned about the Hunger Games, and I know you've learned an awful lot Princess, have you ever heard of the Capitol building a Training Arena? The kid was right, they want us to survive for longer, and the Careers aren't prepared for that."

"Oh and you are?"

"Yes." Jack said bluntly. There was not a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Why should _I _trust _you_?" Persephone leaned in closer. Back in the Command Centre, Celia sat with her finger poised delicately on a button that would release a fast acting sleeping gas into the room, just incase a fight broke out. "You're from 1, but you didn't volunteer, and nobody took your place. You act like you're a Career, but you didn't choose to be here, and I don't remember you trying very hard with any of the weapons on offer, which is a very strange thing for someone in an Alliance of trained assassins." Jack's face quickly concealed a smile at hearing Persephone's final word.

"These Alliances are hardly ever built on trust. Surely you know that? I choose my allies based on skill, and a mutual distrust of everyone else. So Persephone, who do you trust the least?" Celia watched as Persephone took a pause for thought. She would come to the correct conclusion. Celia knew it, Jack knew it too, and Persephone could see it in his face.

"Who else?" Persephone asked through pursed lips. _Smart girl _Celia thought. She herself had sensed an unspoken rift in the Career pack. The seven of them had never truly forged an Alliance, and probably wouldn't have done. Jack couldn't have picked a better ally to start with, but Celia was curious to find out who else was on his list.

"The girl from 3." Jack said with some hesitance.

"What?" Persephone laughed. "You want me to join you in the latest ill-fated attempt at an anti-Career Alliance, and the first person you want to invite into the fold is some frowning loner from 3? Impressive, truly."

"She's got more potential than you think," Jack replied unphased, "She can already kill, build a smokeless fire, and cook her own food. She's managed that with one day of training, as far as I know. Now I can cook my own food, but it would certainly free up some time if we had an ally who hunted for us."

"So what you're proposing is that we go out and kill other Tributes while our little servant from 3 tends to the campfire? We'll be like a sweet little family, all made of murderers! Do you intend to play the Daddy?" Persephone's sarcasm was almost as good as her skills with a throwing knife.

"Exactly. Not the _Daddy _part, though." Jack continued, "We need a hunter – and the girl from 3 fits the bill – someone who can heal injuries would be a great asset, or perhaps a tech wizard. I'd like another 'murderer' on the team too."

"Who?"

"Jade." Persephone laughed candidly at Jack's response.

"Are you sure we actually need her, or do you just want to try and sleep with her?"

"A little bit of both…" Jack winked before his expression turned serious again. "She's good with a blade, and she's not up the Capitol's ass like the rest of them. Her looks are just a bonus, kind of like your own."

"Ugh, don't try it, you'll only embarrass yourself. How do you figure she's 'not up the Capitol's ass'?" Persephone raised an eyebrow.

"Her sister died in last years Games, mutts jumped her from behind and tore her to pieces, she didn't even get to fight to the end, despite the fact that she was in the last three. Jade hasn't thought much of the Capitol since then." Jack elaborated on Jade's story a little, and Persephone listened with feigned indifference. Celia wondered if Jack had simply forgotten that the Capitol monitored their every move, perhaps he was just careless when it came to discussing his allies. Celia watched their plan form around the small table, Jack suggesting potential allies, Persephone laughing them off. She would become more serious as the Games approached, Celia was sure of it.

* * *

Haymitch Abernathy was growing increasingly frustrated. The longer he spent in the company of Effie Trinket, the more alcohol he felt the need to consume. This morning though, he'd decided to try and be a good Mentor to the Tributes in his care, and had laid the whiskey aside until this afternoon. The reason for this had escaped him many hours ago, but nonetheless, he sat waiting somewhat patiently for Jonah and Belle to rise from their slumber and join him at the breakfast table. Belle was the first to arrive. She was still in her pajamas, her hair was mussed up, and she failed to fight a series of yawns while wiping the sleep from eyes. She was a quiet girl, and after the Capitol had messed with her body she'd retracted even further into her shell. Haymitch struggled to figure her out properly, but he had managed to hold a short conversation with her last night, so progress was being made, even if it was slow going. Jonah Abagnale on the other hand, seemed to have no problem talking about himself; in fact he looked as though he enjoyed it. Haymitch was supposed to be supportive of his Tributes, but internally he felt anxious for the day that he would be shot of the boy.

Haymitch greeted Belle and the pair of them waited for Jonah, who would stroll in some ten minutes later having wasted much of their time, and showing no remorse for doing so. With the four of them finally sat at the table, Haymitch began. "So, you've had a day in the Training Centre. Have you started working on your Arena strategy?"

"Strategy!" Jonah threw his head back in laughter, "Who needs one? None of the other Tributes are as good as me! You watch, I'll have the Games won in a day!"

"Hardly." Haymitch replied bluntly.

"Who needs your opinion anyway?" Jonah spat back, "You won by luck, not skill! At least this year District 12 will get to see what a real Victor looks like!" Haymitch fought back the urge to reach over the table and strangle him, but he did have at least part of a point. Haymitch had won the Hunger Games by luck. Still, Jonah would be flattened if he carried that attitude into the Arena. Deciding for the time being to simply ignore him, Haymitch turned his attention to Belle. She shook her head.

"Why?" Haymitch asked her. "Are you planning to just cross your fingers and hope for the best?"

"Well…" Belle began nervously. She never really attempted to finish her sentence, and Jonah's pompous voice filled the void of silence.

"You might as well," he snorted, "because you're first on my list!" With that, he rose from the table and sauntered over to the TV.

"Ignore him!" Haymitch hissed. "You need a strategy Belle, something that plays to your strengths."

"What?" Belle asked quietly. The poor girl looked close to tears.

"You need a strategy that plays to your strengths." Haymitch repeated. "Take a look at who you're up against. Jack Banastre, from what I've heard he's never spent a day in a Training Academy, but he was Reaped, he didn't volunteer. District 1 wouldn't have let that happen without reason, and you can bet that he knows what he's doing. His District partner might come off as a bit of a bimbo, but she was selected to Volunteer, and you can bet that the ditzy blonde act is all a part of her _strategy_. In District 2 you have 'The Chosen One' and Jade Lockheart. Now she might be as pretty as he is arrogant," Haymitch threw a look towards Jonah, "but she's as much of a fairy princess as I am.

One of District Four's Mentors is a man named Peyton. He's an old legend, won the Fifth Games, and holds a record eleven kills. Word's been spreading that he wants one of his protégé's to beat that record before he retires or keels over. Now Azer Chistean's head might be filled with sawdust, but Peyton's _is not. _They will have a strategy. And you can bet that it will play to Azer's strengths. Come on Belle! What are your strengths?"

"I… I can shoot, with a bow and arrow," Belle stammered, "I'm a fair shot."

"Better than fair from what I've heard," Haymitch growled his encouragement, "Old Hagar claims you hit a squirrel in the eye from a hundred and fifty feet!"

"B-but I can't fight off the Careers, I'll never get my hands on a bow!"

"You can get your hands on the materials to make one."

* * *

Judith awoke as the sun began to rise over the Capitol. Her room had a view right down one of the city's busiest streets, and while she was never a shy girl she was glad that the glass was mirrored. It wouldn't help to attract sponsors if everyone in the Capitol saw her naked. Well, it wouldn't attract the _right _kind of sponsor. Judith needed to use her sex appeal to gain the notice of the wealthy Capitol men, but not to the extent that they thought of her as nothing but an object. If that happened she wouldn't get sponsored at all. Rising from beneath the sheets, Judith stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Rather than jumping straight in, Judith lit a cigarette from one of the packets she'd managed to convince a Peacekeeper to buy for her. Tributes weren't allowed to smoke, but Judith had discovered a long time ago that the steam from a hot shower absorbed the smoke and fooled the smoke detectors. To her further advantage, the water from the Capitol's showers was rose-scented and so by the time she'd finished showering, there would be no evidence that she'd been smoking at all as long as she hid the packet of ciggs carefully. Flicking out her cigarette into the shower drain, Judith stepped into the torrent of warm water and let it soak into her skin. She had hoped that volunteering for the Hunger Games would give her life the excitement she so desperately craved, but so far the experience had been quite dull.

Aside from the fling with her District partner, and the race she'd had with her allies to reach the Training Room Cornucopia, Judith felt as though she was going through the motions, just like home. Sure, the Careers all had their talents, but none of them were outstanding in any way, which left Judith somewhat disinterested in the whole affair. Grudgingly, Judith sat at her dressing table and began to get ready. She powdered her nose, applied eye shadow and lipstick and all other manner of make-up that was completely impractical for a sweaty, 8 hour training session, but would help her keep up the giggly, busty-blonde image that she'd be using for the next two to three weeks. She threw her hair into a ponytail and began to get dressed. The Capitol provided each Tribute with the same standard issue Training outfit, as well as any other clothing that they could wear during their stay, the clothes that Judith had arrived in were binned in the prep room. The sports bra they'd provided was an uncomfortable squeeze, and Judith would've happily binned it were it not for the fact that the training outfits were made of a skin-tight lycra. Judith squeezed into the vest and leggings, and checked the mirror to make sure everything was in proportion.

She didn't like the way she looked, even though a lot of it was natural, she hated the giggly blonde image, but it was useful. Keeping her face pretty at all times, staying in great shape, and revealing just a little too much of her chest would help her line up sponsors without much effort on her part. Men were very easily manipulated. As for her allies, it was a slightly more complex problem but one that Judith had already figured out for the short term. Jack would want her to stay in the Career Pack because she'd slept with him, and Azer and Illias would want her to in the Career Pack because they'd want to sleep with her. As for the girls, they saw her as a necessary evil. Jade might be just as beautiful, but to the rest of them, Judith was the bimbo with the big tits who'd get sponsor gifts sent to them, and who might occasionally wield a sword if they were caught in a numbers game. In truth, Judith could wield an array of weapons as well as or better than the rest of them, but watching repeats of every Hunger Games had taught her that the Career Pack was always the most suspicious of their most skilled member, and when the Alliance fell apart, they were usually the first one killed. With her strategy, Judith would never be mistaken for the most skillful member of the pack, and so they wouldn't be watching her as closely as they might Jack or Jade. Eventually, it would bite them in the ass. Judith adjusted her vest once more, and walked out of her bedroom, ready for the day ahead.

* * *

**A/n: **

**Heyy guys, here is the latest chapter, hope you enjoy it. **

**Questions:**

1\. Who was your favourite POV in this chapter?

2\. Who has the best strategy going into the Games?

3\. Who do you think will be allied with who at launch?

4\. Did you catch my reference from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?

**Mentor Question worth 1 point plus 1 for answering the questions above:**

Who claims Belle can hit a squirrel in the eye from a hundred and fifty feet?

**Thanks, **

**Iron Man. **


	17. Chapter 17 Training Day Two

**Heyy Guys, back again with a new chapter. I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for your wait, especially to those of you who are still waiting on your character getting a proper POV. Truthfully, I've been busy in my personal life, which has hindered my writing a bit. But it's also down to being almost finished with my Harry Potter story. It has been around longer than UtBF, and is admittedly much more successful, so I've been giving it higher priority than UtBF. **

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**17**

**Training Day Two **

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Amber-Rose had taken a liking to the group of Outers. They weren't really calling themselves an Alliance, not yet. But just as they had done the day before, a lot of the Outer District Tributes agreed to congregate on the beach inside the Training Arena once they had completed their run of the stations. It had been a tough morning. The Tributes had began the day by being rolled around on 'The Floor', with the Careers having mastered the art of keeping their balance most gracefully. Amber had been less successful, and fell quite a few times. The remaining Tributes had each attempted to stay on their feet with varying degrees of success, with Malcolm Halberd managing to almost keep up with the Careers. Contrastingly, a few of the other Tributes stepped off the moving platform looking positively green; Amber felt a bit queasy herself. After running the assault course – which Jade Lockheart had stubbornly completed twice before most had even made it to the end of the first section – and completing a terrifying but mandatory exercise with some of the cannons in the Artillery Range, the Tributes were allowed free roam of the Training Centre. Amber's thoughts turned had at once turned to the white sand, lush trees, and crystal water of the Training Arena, but her Mentor had warned her to steer clear of it for a good two hours at least.

The Training Arena was a curse and a blessing. It provided a realistic environment in which to hone your skills, but it also distracted you from the stations that would teach you the skills you needed to know in the first place. With this in mind, Amber made her way straight for the knot tying station. She'd began making a mental list of the things she would need to work on to be more prepared for the Arena, knots were first on the list. Amber found the station empty, save for an old man with tanned skin, kind eyes, and a face that had been beaten by the weather over countless years likely spent at sea. He began by teaching Amber the basic, most useful knots that he thought would benefit her in the Arena. "You won't have time for any fancy, impressive pieces of rope work when there's Tributes hunting you down," he'd say to her, fiddling nimbly with a small loop of fishing twine, "You need something simple, quick, and effective." After twenty or so minutes of bowlines, round turn and two half hitches, reef knots, and sheet bends, Amber felt much more competent, and thanked the man kindly before moving on. Just next to the knot tying section was an area for learning to set snares. Amber had wanted to go and learn how to start a fire, but what use was a fire, other than for the extra warmth, if she couldn't catch any food to cook on it? So Amber conceded, and spent half an hour sitting at a wooden table cutting her fingertips with piano wire before she finally manufactured a semi-decent rabbit snare. Still not entirely confident in her trapping abilities, but harboring no desire to continue making her fingers bleed by trying, Amber moved on from the snare table. In the corner of the training room was a metal cylinder, about 6 feet in diameter sunk into the floor. Marlowe Bastion from District 4 stood in the centre, attempting to start a fire.

It would be wrong to deny that she was scared, but if Amber couldn't approach one of the Careers in a Training Room, how would she manage to face one in the Arena? Composing herself, Amber calmed her nerves, and hopped into the station. A very disinterested woman explained to Amber the process of fire starting, and told her to have a go. Amber risked a glance over to a very red-faced Marlowe, and saw her struggling to get a small pile of tinder to catch the spark. Amber turned back to her own pile, and inevitably she had a small fire going within minutes. If only she'd came to this station yesterday, it would've saved a lot of time and arguing on the beach between all of the boys, who'd sat the group of Outer girls down and tried to impress them by starting a fire and catching fish to barbecue. Eventually they got a fire going, but no fish were ever caught. "Why did you volunteer?" A voice cut through Amber's thoughts.

"What?" Amber replied, shaking herself out of her daze.

"I don't like repeating myself," Marlowe turned to face her, abandoning her pile of tinder, "why did you volunteer?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Amber reflected back to the moment she'd rushed out on stage, and volunteered for a boy she'd never once laid eyes on. He'd only one arm, and was missing an eye. He would never have survived the Games. _At least I have a chance _Amber had thought, and before she knew it, she'd volunteered. Her parents came to visit her to say goodbye. Her mum was furious, her dad insisting she'd win, to try and give her false confidence. They'd already lost her older sister Meredith to the Games, Amber was 2 at the time, and it was a miracle that she'd was here at all; her parents were in their late fifties when she'd been born, they wouldn't be able to replace her with another daughter of their own now. She felt sad thinking of her parents. Of the many children they'd tried for, and the few they'd had, none of them ever reached adulthood, and Amber was afraid of becoming the last one on the list.

"Stupid reason," Marlowe cut through her thoughts again.

"To you," Amber replied coolly.

"To anyone," the District 4 girl scoffed, "you have no training, you're too shy, I doubt you'll fight let alone kill. You are unprepared for what's coming." At Marlowe's condescending tone, something inside Amber snapped, and the stick in her hand snapped too. With the jagged end pointing outwards, Amber did something incredibly stupid, and raked it across Marlowe's cheek. The woman in charge of the station hopped into action immediately, drawing a thin baton from her belt, and raised to club Amber over the head. She would've done, but for Marlowe raising a hand to stop her. With a scowl, the woman returned to her post, gesturing for no more trouble.

"I know more than I let on," Amber said confidently, making sure to get the first word in. She wasn't sure what Marlowe's reaction would be, but she was sure that she'd just marketed herself for an early death.

"Yes you do," the girl replied with a smile. She touched a finger to her cheek, and examined the small droplets of blood that came away. Not a word more was exchanged, and Amber left a few moments later, her fire beginning to dwindle away. The first blood of the Games had been drawn, and Amber-Rose Brown was the one to draw it.

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Nathan Cole was still wondering how he had ended up here. Not in the Games, but standing in front of a training dummy wearing a huge pair of boxing gloves that made him appear comically small when strapped onto his twiggy wrists. He was never, at any point in his life, a fighter, and even the hard plastic dummy staring him down seemed impossibly big and intimidating. Garret Valens stood with his hands on his hips, and instructed him to proceed. The previous day, when a large group of them had sat around the fire, Garret was someone that Nathan was too shy to even talk to. He was good-looking, quite popular among the group, and had spent the evening boasting of his prowess as a boxing champion. For the most part, Nathan had assumed it was all talk to impress a somewhat shy girl named Satin Valentine; Garret had been trying slyly to feel her up while the other boys were busying themselves trying to light a fire, and Satin had very sweetly suggested that he back up his words with action, to which he replied that he would do just that tomorrow. Say what you will, but Garret Valens was a man of his word. His first actions after completing all of the mandatory exercises was to present Satin with one of the Capitol's many sparring partners, and proceed to beat him senseless with very precise strikes and light footwork, the kind you'd expect from a trained fighter. It was nothing short of impressive, and even though Satin still seemed slightly uncomfortable around him, she allowed him to show her a few strikes and grapples. After seeing Nathan struggling hopelessly with a sword that was far too heavy, Garrett had taken Nathan under his wing. It was probably just to show Satin that he was a caring and helpful man by taking a weakling from 11 and showing him how to defend himself, but Nathan was determined to learn from it anyway.

Garret had boxed with bare knuckles, but suggested that Nathan try first with a pair of gloves, to help harden his skin a little bit without leaving his knuckles busted open. Nathan threw a few laughable punches at the training dummy before Garret stepped in. "You have to want it," he'd tell Nathan time and time again, "my first fight was out in the street, when some beggar tried to rob me of my credits, I didn't have much either, so I had to fight to keep food on my mums table. Dad runs a car manufacturing plant, but there isn't much market for cars in a District as poor as 6, so most of his business comes from the less wealthy Capitolites, who get discounts for all District bought produce. Keeps the rich wealthy and the poor left wanting. So, I start fighting for money. There are a lot of people in 6 who'll spend what little they have to see the underground boxing matches. 30 percent of the ticket fees go to the winner of the match, and I'm undefeated in Hub 42. Now, there's plenty of food on mums table. You have to want it kid, or your punches won't ever _hit_." With strong emphasis on the final word, Garret gave the plastic dummy a punch so hard it sent its head skittering across the floor. Nathan shrank back. Several of the other Tributes glanced over at the noise. He expected Garret to be flexing his muscles and boasting to the girls, but he'd turned around, and left the room staring at Nathan as if he'd been the one to throw the punch.

After a few more tries, Nathan decided to call it a day. He was still useless at fighting; he'd need to find another way to survive the Games. For about half an hour, he milled around from station to station, without really learning anything. What chance did he really have? He wasn't strong, he couldn't fight like Garret, he couldn't use weapons like the Careers, he could set a few traps, he'd spent a lot of time yesterday learning about poisons, and he seemed to have a knack for camouflage, but what good would that do him in fight? While contemplating his impending doom, what he'd eat for dinner, and the wider origins of the universe, Nathan walked straight into another Tribute, and the pair went sprawling to the floor. Fearing the worst, Nathan warily rose from the floor to see who he'd just knocked over. It could have been worse, at least that's what Nathan thought looking at the boy from 3 that was picking himself up off the floor. He was muscular, and athletic, but not in the same way as the Careers, and Nathan couldn't deny that he was incredibly good-looking. Now of course, he could be highly trained, and would hunt Nathan down in the Arena and kill him for knocking him over, so he would have to at least try and make peace. "Sorry," Nathan held his hands up, "I was lost in a world of my own." The boy nodded, and stretched out his arms.

"It's not how you thought it would be is it?" The boy grimaced, as if there was some moment of understanding between the two of them.

"What do you mean?" Nathan asked, genuinely curious.

"You come here fearing the absolute worst, everything seems so dull and gloomy, you think you're going to be killed instantly. But somewhere along the way, you start to have fun. All of the Training is helping you to learn new things, things you wouldn't even think of back home. It all seems like the Games are not so bad after all," Nathan nodded as the boy continued, "but then some, small, meaningless thing reminds you of what you're _actually _facing in a few days."

"Yeah," Nathan agreed. He _had _been having fun recently. The big group of Outers had sort of became his friends, and while some of them weren't people Nathan would usually associate with, they were all quite an easy-going bunch, it was hard not to have fun when they were building fires on a beach and trying hopelessly to catch fish. But sooner rather than later, the fun would stop. They'd all be thrown into the Arena, and people would be trying to kill each other. The Careers _would_ be hunting him down, he knew that much, everyone knew that, but who else would be on the hunt. Would their large group hold together during the Games, were they even an Alliance in the first place? Nobody had said so. What was stopping guys like Garret from finding Nathan and turning him into a punching bag?

"Learned much?" The boy asked.

"A bit, some poisons, edible plants. You?"

"Thrown some knives, done a lot of physical conditioning."

"I'm no good with weapons," Nathan said sheepishly, "but I've never really tried too hard. I'm rubbish with swords, and knives."

"You're too small for those," the boy responded bluntly, "have you tried something different?"

"_Different_?"

"Crossbows, spears, those guns. You know, ranged weapons."

"No." Nathan shook his head.

"Well, why don't you give some of them a try?"

"Ok, I suppose it would be good to be able to use a weapon in an Arena full of killers," the boy nodded his head in agreement, "I didn't catch your name," Nathan stopped.

"Dylan Rye," the boy held out his hand for Nathan to shake it, "and yours?"

"Nathan, Nathan Cole."

"Come on," Dylan jerked his thumb towards the weapons station, "let's go see what they have on the shelf."

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Rae Macery was quite proud of the shelter that she and her friend Aphra were constructing on the beach. They had trained with some weapons, spent a lot of time learning to forage for food, something Aphra proved quite adept at, dabbled unsuccessfully in poisons, and even spent some time at the camouflage station. Putting their newfound skills to the test, the pair had decided to get to the beach early and have a shelter built, and a fire already going before the rest of the Outers arrived. "Ok, pull on three," Aphra interrupted her thoughts, grabbing hold of a vine on her side of the shelter. Rae did the same, and on the count of three, the pair of them raised a large canopy of palm fronds over their heads. Their shelter wasn't too basic either; it was large enough for four to six people, depending on their size, and would shelter them well from any rain that might fall, and provide some warmth if they could find blankets. It had two somewhat solid walls built from woven vines filled with sand and held up with some branches, and a large canopy of palm fronds that started from the ground and soared over their heads. Despite the sand being relatively soft, Aphra had laid down a floor mat that she'd woven from some of the tall grasses that grew just behind the tree line. Judging by the huge digital clock, which looked very out of place in the Training Arena, it had taken them around an hour and a half so far to construct their shelter. They made quite a good team. As they lay down for a break inside their newly built shelter, Rae began to contemplate how they could work this to their advantage in the Arena. On its own, the shelter would provide its namesake. It was relatively sturdy, it would keep them dry and hopefully warm, especially if they huddled together, and would make for a comfortable place to sleep during the night. But what if they could do more?

"Do you think we could do more with the shelter?" Rae asked.

"What do you mean? Like, making the canopy bigger?" Aphra turned to look at her.

"Well, if we built one of these in the Arena, what if we turned it into a base of sorts?"

"So… we make it tougher?" Rae could see Aphra starting to catch on to her train of thought. "How?"

"Well," Rae began to lay out some of her thoughts, "these walls are quite tough already, I think we need to try and make the canopy thicker, or have it backed right up against a rock wall or a thick tree line. We should also make a flap that comes down over the front, maybe made of wood, or filled with sand like the two walls. I think there are going to be guns in the Arena, and I'd like to be able to hide from the bullets." Aphra nodded her agreement.

"What if we could get some guns of our own? We could sit inside the shelter, and fire out from behind the walls." Aphra was more excited now, and the pair began laying down their plans. If the Training Arena provided them with all of these materials, then they would surely be able to find some of them in the Arena.

"We could weave more of these grass plants into bags, fill them with sand, and build a wall at the entrance to the shelter!"

"What if we built a much bigger wall?" Aphra asked.

"How would we do that?" Rae replied eagerly.

"If we could knock down a few of these trees, and find something to sharpen the fallen trunks with, we could built a sort of fence around the perimeter. Our fire pit would be safe inside the fence, which would help to hide the flames too, so we could cook in safety and always be kept warm. We'll still build the sandbags, and if someone does try to break in with guns, we jump behind the bags, into the shelter, and close the flap at the front! If we build it properly, it'll be totally secure!" Aphra was using her hands to animate the conversation, and Rae was envisioning a much clearer mental image of their shelter turning into a fortress.

"What if we set snares around the outside too? Do you remember that one Games where the Career Pack had a lot of traps set up so that no-one could steal their food? Why don't we do the same?"

"And then," Aphra continued Rae's sentence, "using the _many_ skills we've learned today, we could throw some camouflage over the top." Rae nodded, but she was starting to think they were getting ahead of themselves.

"I don't know if we can do this on our own," it sounded so negative when it escaped her mouth that Rae worried Aphra would take offence, but she simply looked to the ground in solemn realisation. "We built this great shelter in good time," Rae continued, "But if we really want a permanent place to sleep, eat, hunt, and even fight to defend, then we're going to need help building it."

"Who?" Aphra asked simply.

"I don't know," Rae conceded, "I don't know who we can trust properly. The group on the beach yesterday, we all sort of drifted together, but we aren't a proper Alliance. You and I are, but the rest of them… I'm not so sure, and I don't think any of them are either."

"Then maybe we need to get them to clearly define where they stand."

"Your suggesting that we just ask whoever shows up on the beach if they want to be in an Alliance with us?"

"Why not?" Aphra shrugged, "We both know that the Careers will hunt us all down to kill us before turning on each other, at least that will be their plan, the rest will either form small Alliances like we have, or wander around aimlessly. The reason anti-Career Alliances don't work is because they're usually too small and too unskilled to stand a chance. If we allied with everyone who was on the beach last night then we win the numbers game. We'll have a lot of people to help build the shelter, the fence, the sandbags, set snares, hunt, cook and fight."

"But what if we beat the Careers, what happens then?"

"Then you and I fight together, like we planned to in the first place."

"Aphra, I don't want it to come down to the two of us," Rae shook her head. She wanted to survive, wanted to win the Hunger Games, but already she shared an immensely close bond with Aphra Maston, and she wasn't sure if she could bring herself to kill one person, let alone the person she liked the most.

"Neither do I," Aphra put a hand on her shoulder, "if it does happen, we cross that bridge when we come to it, not before."

"Not before." Rae repeated with strength.

"Well," Malcolm Halberd poked his head into their shelter and gave the pair a wink, "It looks like you to ladies have built quite the bachelor pad, must've known I was coming. Budge over rainbow hair!" And before either of them had any time to protest, Malcolm had slotted himself in between the two of them, and was trying the classic move of stretching his arms wide, yawning, and pulling them into a hug. Aphra and Rae shared a look, and with some force, moved Malcolm's arms from around their necks and with several pokes to the ribcage, reminded him jokingly that it was in his best interests to keep his hands to himself in future.

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**A/n:**

**Heyy Guys,**

**I hope you've enjoyed the most recent instalment, especially since it's been so long a wait. I originally wanted this chapter to be longer, especially since my last Harry Potter chapter was over 6,000 words. but unfortunately the fourth POV just wouldn't come to me, and if I forced my writing it would be awful! I especially hope, Jalen Kun, that you enjoy this chapter because I know you've waited for Nathan's debut for a long time. I've listened to a couple of your suggestions, and I hope I've done ok for you. **

**I know there are some of you who have lost faith in me, and I'd just like to tell you this: I am not a psychic. If you have never told me through a review that you aren't enjoying my story, and why you aren't enjoying it, you can't expect me to know. Not reviewing doesn't tell me this, it just makes me think that people are busy, gone completely, or don't like reviewing. I don't mind if you don't like the story, but I do mind the way you tell me. **

**I have no reservations about reporting people who leave reviews or messages that are rude, full of swearing, or completely unintelligible. You'll notice UtBF has very few of these, and there's a reason for it. If you would like to leave a review, then do so politely and eloquently, as I would to a story of yours. I want to improve my writing as much as anyone else on fanfiction, and answering my questions, or just leaving helpful tips or suggestions is a good, friendly way to help me out, and it might even lead to me checking out your own work. Being blasphemous and hateful, towards me or any of my submitters is horrible, and detrimental to the progress of the story. I don't want to dread posting up a chapter of UtBF, especially since so many stories of this kind are being abandoned, or given a quick summary. I won't ever do that to UtBF, I've had long conversations about this, and I think it would be disrespectful to my readers to _ever_ give up on a story that I'd committed to. But a bit more positivity all around would help us get to the Games a bit quicker! **

**So that is the last time I'm posting that kind of message. If you would like to leave a helpful review, I am absolutely keen to read it! If you love the chapter and wouldn't change a thing, even better! If you have nothing nice to say at all, then don't say it. I won't ever force you to read the story, and if you don't enjoy it anymore, you're welcome to leave it behind, and I'm sorry to lose you. But there's no need to go slandering me on my story, or on _public_ forums. I hope everyone can continue to be mature and respectful to one another. **

**So, if you're ready to give this story another chance, or if you never even lost faith in the first place, treat this chapter as the new starting point. Wipe the slate clean, and really start getting to know each Tribute from this point forward. **

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**So I've put a break line after that part of the authors note, because I don't want everyone to leave the chapter feeling all negative! Come on guys, think positive! I actually have some cool things to talk about, and some questions to ask! I'll separate each topic with a break line, so you can skip to the end if you want. This is gonna be a huge A/n. Sorry. **

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**So we'll start by getting the big, bad Celia Torrent out of the way. If you don't like her you can skip to the next break line and completely forget I ever mentioned her name in this A/n. I know she's very divisive, some people don't like her, some do, I actually had one person tell me through PM that she was their favourite character in all of the Hunger Games. That person knows who they are, and they are very cool. So if you do like Celia, and you'd like to know more about her, I've published 'Celia's Story', which is as the title suggests. It's something of an origin story, and starts with a sixty-five year old Celia recounting her twelfth birthday, and it will continue up to UtBF and beyond. I'm also experimenting with a new writing style in first-person, and I'd appreciate some feedback if you are willing to give it! **

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**After my incredible success at rebuilding one of the immense Hunger Games C2's (Only kidding, huge thanks to Kopycat and Katrace for their help with that project!) I'm looking for a new project on FF! I've noticed people complaining that some of the big forums are dying out, and I'm offering to change that! I'm not sure what to make the forum about, so some suggestions would be welcome! A lot of my friends from FF, like Nia and Kyle, are no longer here, and it makes me sad. I still have some friends here, but I'd like to get to know more of you, and a forum might be a great way for everyone to interact with each other, talk about books etc. I'd like to invite some of my Harry Potter readers too, so if people would like to join a new community, then lets do it! **

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**So now we actually get to the part of my A/n where I talk about the chapter itself! Big congratulations if you've read the entire A/n! **

**I did want the chapter to be longer, but I am quite pleased with how it turned out despite this. Every Tribute this time around has their debut POV, even if we've seen the character before, this is their first POV. I have a chart, I do keep track. Six Tributes are yet to have a POV, but if this is the case with your Tribute, it's because I have ****something planned for them in a later chapter. For example, you'll all have to wait until the interviews to properly meet Illias Martell, but it should be worth the wait because he has some cool things to talk about. Some Tributes get their POV next chapter, some in the private sessions. **

**So I'm going to give you more questions than usual in this chapter, you don't need to answer them all (please try and answer the first three though), but if you do I'd love it! **

1) Who was your favourite POV this chapter and why?

2) What can I improve on for next time?

3) My next chapter involves the Outer District Tributes telling each other stories about their life back home, who's story would you like to hear?

4) Who do you think has learned the most in training so far?

5) How many interviews would you like to read in full? I'm thinking of doing three, with some quick overviews of the others.

6) Aphra and Rae have asked you to be a part of their Alliance, you know their plan for the shelter, but you don't know they plan to turn on you, do you accept their offer?

**And finally the Mentor question:**

What is the occupation of Garret Valens's father?

**Ok! Thank you for struggling through this exceptionally long authors note, I promise the next one will be like 5 words total! Pity me for having to write it! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter, and that you look forward to the next one! **

**Thanks, **

**Iron Man. **


	18. Chapter 18 Launch

**18**

**Launch**

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Persephone Barley clung tightly to a wooden beam supporting the roof of her jail cell. Her Arena outfit was soaked through, and her hair clung to her face in a tangled mess, a far cry from the intricate platinum plaits that usually adorned her head. Persephone's chest heaved painfully, and her body shook with fear, the same fear that had invaded her mind during her private training session. This storm had been sent into the arena to test her metal, and so far _it _was winning. The Hunger Games were nothing like she'd imagined. Persephone wanted the glory, the fame, the money. She'd been sucked in by the glamour of it, but none of her training had prepared her for the brutality of it all. The finality of death. Only 6 Tributes had been killed on the first night; Persephone's knife hitting it's mark early in the day. From that point on, her time in the Arena had been a long period of screaming and vomiting, before she was confined to a 6-foot wide metal cell down below. She hadn't seen her allies since they had been ushered onto the hovercraft platform, and taken in solitude to their staging area, waiting in anticipation for the moment they would step into a glass tube and rise triumphantly into the Arena. Except they never rose at all, they fell.

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**_33 Hours to Launch…_**

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Marlowe Bastion sat, arms folded, legs crossed, waiting impatiently for her private training session to begin. She sat in a small, solitary cubicle, with a leather chair for her to sit on, a drinks machine, and a screen that showed highlights from previous games. Maybe it was supposed to give her inspiration, or intimidate her, but Marlowe remained quite indifferent. The grim scenes of decapitation and cannibalism just didn't bother her, and the session was simply a formality; as long as she posted a decent score then there would be little fuss, and even less fanfare. Provided that Marlowe didn't score low, or too high, then everything would be as planned. She was never going to be the brains of the operation, she could readily admit that to herself, but with a tall, very muscular build, and an extensive knowledge of Guerrilla warfare, Marlowe was well equipped to take on the Hunger Games. Her 3 days training had been a very lax weekend of workouts, weapon drills, and eyeing both her competition and her allies to try and analyse what type of Tributes she would be facing, and what each of her Allies could bring to the table. Illias and Jade from 2 were both impeccably skilled fighters, Illias in particular showed remarkable skill with a sword in his hands. Marlowe _could _do reasonable damage with a sword, but Illias could move a blade so fast it was barely visible, and this speed had enabled him to slice through a metal bar, albeit accidentally. Persephone from 9 seemed at first like she was something of a disappointment. The Volunteer daughter of two Victors had been pretty horrible with swords, axes, and spears, to the point where Azer, Marlowe's District partner, had quite rudely remarked that she might not be a worthwhile ally. In response, Persephone had embedded a throwing knife into a soda can from a distance of around 20 metres, something even Jack from District 1 couldn't manage.

Jack Banastre was the kind of Tribute who liked to show off, a lot. His skill was undeniable. His mastery of a diverse range of weapons was incredibly impressive, and if Marlowe suspected correctly, he'd only begun to show them what he could _really _do. Everyone saved their most impressive show-piece for their private session, and she could only wonder what Jack would do to impress the icy Head Gamemaker, Celia Torrent. Marlowe would have wondered if she herself would be able to put enough of a dent in Celia's stone-faced facade, but her train of thought was cut off by the door into the Training Room hissing open, and the usually smooth, cool voice of the Head Gamemaker rasped a crackly "_Enter". _

Marlowe entered into a tense training room. Dried blood and sweat soaked the floor mats of the combat area, the stench of strong cleaning chemicals hung in the air, sweat matted Celia Torrent's hair, and the Peacekeeper regiment assigned to oversee the private sessions stood nervously to attention. _Azer what have you done? _Marlowe shook the thought from her head. The other Tributes weren't her concern right now, though it certainly seemed like Azer had gained some measure of revenge for the kick Celia had given him. Marlowe bowed her head in greeting, and stood at ease awaiting further instructions.

"Marlowe Bastion," Celia read a file she'd taken from a table placed behind her, "Volunteer from 4. Another one of Peyton's recruits?" Celia's question was tinged with venom.

"No Ma'am," Marlowe responded, "Erik Lysander completed the majority of my training."

"Erik is a good man. I find Peyton too wasteful. I assumed you're trained in Tae Jut, and in various weapons?"

"3rd Dan black belt," Marlowe replied proudly, puffing out her chest, "and yes, I have extensive weapons training, hand-to-hand combat, and four years of intense physical conditioning."

"14th Dan Master, Panem Fencing champion, former Officer in Squad 19, Naval Academy's top sniper. You have many skills Marlowe, skills you should take pride in, but you have the scope to learn so much more, so lose the arrogance that becomes the downfall of so many Careers." Celia had made a point of dressing Marlowe down, boasting of her own achievements, but she had to admit, she was impressed. Tae Jut was a martial art with 15 black belts, Marlowe had only reached the 3rd. As for the Naval Academy, only Panem's most lethal Peacekeepers were permitted to train there, and only the best of the best made it onto Squad 19. Marlowe jumped to two conclusions, first, she could now guess where Celia had learned to throw kicks too fast to see, and why she seemed to be made entirely of ice and stone. But Marlowe had also gathered that even the Hunger Games were now run by the Navy. Panem was becoming more and more militarised each year.

"You're going to complete a few drills, some are mandatory for every Tribute, some I've chosen specifically for you," Celia continued, "Then you'll have the opportunity to showcase some of your skills, and afterwards you'll be put through a final test. Are you ready?" Marlowe nodded, expecting to be sent on an assault course run, or told to stand on the Floor. Instead she was given a clipboard with a test paper, and a pen. "This test should take approximately 3 minutes, it will assess your decision making in different circumstances. Begin."

Marlowe raced through the paper quickly. She'd been given similar tests at the Academy, quizzing her on different battle and survival scenarios. She'd never scored particularly high on them before, but she gave it her best. After completing the test paper - which Celia didn't so much as glance at - Marlowe was ushered onto the fighting mats. "Before you lies an opportunity Marlowe," Celia motioned to a Peacekeeper whose uniform bore a single red stripe - this signified she was a student at the Naval Academy. "Natalya is a 7th Dan black belt in Tae Jut, ranked 2nd in the Naval Academy. You will fight three rounds against her, if you manage to knock her onto her back, or force her off the mats, I'll promote you to a 4th Dan black belt. Standard rules apply, no kicks below the belt, and no hits to the head today, I can't have you unconscious. Begin."

Suddenly less confident, Marlowe bowed to her opponent, and took up a fighting stance. The girl opposite her exploded from the mat, throwing a ferocious volley of kicks and knife-hands at a speed Marlowe couldn't hope to match. Her saving grace was that she had almost 90 pounds on her opponent, and while they were incredibly painful, Marlowe's muscular frame absorbed the hits. Sensing that she was nearing the edge of the mat, Marlowe ducked and managed to strike a hefty elbow to her opponents mid-section. The hit had slowed her opponent for a moment, but no real damage had been done. With a vicious side kick, Natalya had Marlowe laid out on her stomach, the taste of blood appeared in her mouth. Round 1 went to Natalya. Shakily getting back to her feet, Marlowe realised that this was only her fourth fight without combat gear on. Still, this was as good an opportunity as any to prepare for some of the hits she would take in the Games. With another bow, Marlowe decided to go offensive for the second round. She charged forward with surprising speed for someone her size, and narrowly missed a punch that would have left her smaller opponent fighting for breath. Natalya responded well, with a rib-crunching tornado kick and an elbow that left Marlowe thankful that her body, unlike many of the other girls, had received no implants that would definitely have ruptured with that kind of impact. Marlowe decided to make a mental note of this. Sometimes, your opponents body was your greatest weapon. As Natalya spun for another kick, Marlowe stepped back to dodge, and then closed in while Natalya was vulnerable. With every bit of strength in her arms, Marlowe squeezed Natalya's waist, and lifted her for a suplex throw. Natalya did throw the most painful elbow Marlowe had taken in her entire life, but it was already too late, and both girls crashed to the floor, with Natalya taking the brunt of the damage.

"That will do. Natalya, you may take a break, there won't be another girl to spar with for twenty minutes at least." With a quick bow, Natalya turned and left. There was no need for a third round. "Sloppy," Celia commented, "but effective nonetheless. Shall we move on?"

* * *

**_29 Hours to Launch…_**

* * *

Obubu Mabebe hated rowing, and boats. He'd never needed to row in his entire life, and if he had, he would've had one of his father's servants do the work. Obubu was the proud son of a District Mayor, rowing was not befitting of a man of his stature. Yet despite this glaring fact, Obubu had been forced against his will to squeeze into the smallest of rowboats and attempt to row out to the Cornucopia at the far end of the Training Arena. Despite his incredible efforts, the clearly defective boat struggled to stay true, and as a result, Obubu was left circling in frustration. "There's something wrong with this boat! I need a better one!"

"There's nothing wrong with the boat, every other Tribute before you made it to that Cornucopia, including the ones who are afraid of water," the Head Gamemaker sighed heavily, "You have two minutes. Row to the Cornucopia, splash around, fall in the water. I really am past the point of caring, just get on with it. I've been at this for four hours, there are still nine Tributes to go, and you're holding everything up."

"How dare you talk to me like that!" Obubu spat back at the woman, "My father will hear about this!"

"A truly terrifying prospect." Celia replied dryly.

"You should be worried. One letter from my father, and you'll be out of a job!" Obubu had stood up in the rowboat, eager to assert his authority over the tiny woman, "If I were you, I'd start treating the next _Victor _with some res…" with an almighty crash, Obubu fell backwards into the water, capsizing the rowboat. He thrashed and flailed around as the currents pulled at him, struggling to keep above the surface. Gulping in air as his head finally cleared the water, Obubu glared at the Head Gamemaker. She'd caused him to lose his balance, embarrassed him, sabotaged his training score. Once the currents had dragged him to shore, Obubu heaved himself up, and stormed along the beach to confront his tormentor. "You!" He began to yell, pointing a large finger in Celia's direction. He would have continued his tirade, but two Peacekeepers blocked his path, shock-rods sparking with electricity.

"Do behave, or I won't let you showcase your own talents. Now, dry off. You'll have ten minutes to show me what you've learnt, and then you step inside the fear simulator." For the first time that day, Celia spoke her final two words with a tinge of malice.

* * *

**_16 Hours to Launch…_**

* * *

Aursen Nicks bristled with excitement as the CapitolTV buzzed to life. He brushed long blonde hair from his eyes, blinking rapidly at the big screen. The curtains of their floor were drawn shut, to block out the dimming sunlight of the late afternoon. His District partner, Satin, was somewhat nervous, babbling to herself about her training session. To be fair, the private training sessions _had _been quite scary. After Aursen had been given the chance to show off his skills, he had been ushered into a machine called a _fear simulator. _Wearing a weird helmet, and being hooked up with countless wires, Aursen was put into a 10 minute simulation, that forced him to show the Gamemakers his worst fears. He wasn't fond of remembering it either, but it seemed to have taken a harsh effect on Satin. "I'm sure you did great Satin!" Aursen glanced over to the older girl as Caesar Flickerman smiled his way through the shows introduction, "and you'll be able to get lots of sponsors at the interviews tonight!"

"The interviews," Satin breathed, a somewhat vacant look on her face, "I forgot all about them."

"Aren't you looking forward to meeting Caesar?" Aursen asked.

"Sure," Satin replied, though she didn't look that excited. "Hey, the scores are coming up." Satin nodded towards the big screen. Their mentor, Carlisle, walked in from the kitchen and took a seat next to them.

"Now remember kids, your training scores don't reflect the number of sponsors you'll get, okay? We've been over this before, but I just want to make sure you don't forget. The best thing you can do to help yourselves in the Arena, is make a good impression during the interviews tonight! Okay?" Aursen nodded, eager to find out his score. The first scores for District One flashed up on the screen, Judith Anastasia Meridian had scored 8, Jack Banastre scored 10. Both good scores, but both were Career Tributes, so it wasn't a surprise. Jade Lockheart from Two scored a 10 as well, and her partner Illias Martell scored 9. "They've all scored well," Carlisle spoke everyone's thoughts out loud, "but we've come to expect that from One and Two. Four should score highly as well." Aursen turned his attention back to the screen as Caesar Flickerman spoke again.

"And from District 3, Calliope Mayfonte with a score of 7, and Dylan Rye with a score of 6. Now, onto District 4! Marlowe Bastion, with a score of 9, and Azer Chistaen with a score of… 11!" The small trio on the couch let out a quiet gasp. During all of his time spent in the training room, Aursen had never seen Azer do anything particularly amazing, and considering that the Head Gamemaker had knocked him out once, he must have pulled off something great in his private session to win her over. Or else… he'd been given his high score to put a target on his back. "From District 5, Alexia Quinn with a score of 6, and Malcolm Halberd, with a score of 9! Now, my little pixie from District 6, Bitte Vertigan, with a score of 8! I always knew she'd do well! Her partner Garret Valens takes a score of 10!" Aursen was tense now, his District was next, _his score_ would be next. He hoped he'd done enough to impress.

"Satin Valentine, with a score of 7! And matching her is her District Partner, Aursen Nicks, who also scored a 7! How about that?" Aursen was relieved. 7 certainly wasn't the best score, but it wasn't _too _low, and he and Satin had came away with the same score, which would stop any awkwardness.

"Well done Aursen," Satin held out her arms for a hug, Aursen could feel himself blushing furiously as he wrapped his small arms around her, "what did you show Celia?"

"I set up some snares, and I ran around the assault course. Did you have to do the rowing, and the fighting? I didn't like the fighting."

"Natalya wasn't much fun," Satin reflected, "but at least I managed the rowing. I sliced the heads off a few dummies, it was horrible." Aursen could imagine. For the private sessions, the training dummies had been switched from the standard foam busts, to ultra-realistic dummies made from some kind of gel, full of blood, and even some bones. Aursen had stuck a knife into one, and blood had poured everywhere. It wasn't nice. Aursen and Satin watched the rest of the scores appear on screen together, and afterwards, Carlisle had given them an hour of free time before the interviews.

"Air hockey?" Satin asked. A few games of air hockey before dinner had become their nightly routine. Their floor did have an air hockey table, it only made sense to put it to good use.

"Air hockey." Aursen nodded.

* * *

**_14 hours to Launch…_**

* * *

Ilias Martell adjusted his tie in an ornate mirror. He wasn't sure he liked the silver suit. A fine colour in moderation, but slightly overdone in this instance. Silver three-piece suit, silver shoes, silver buttons and cufflinks. It _did _seem a little much. But Ilias was not one to complain. Years of Academy training had prepared him not only for combat, but also for the niceties that needed observing. _A gentleman must be as comfortable in a refuse bag as he is in a bathrobe. _Ilias practiced a winning smile in the mirror. The interviews were very simple in nature, but it was very critical to have a good interview. He already knew his angle, the charming and funny gentleman. The kind of young man that the ladies of the Capitol swoon over, but also the kind of man the wealthy Capitol businessmen wouldn't mind share a glass of whiskey or two with. The kind of cool customer that children would aspire to grow up and emulate. Appealing to all of these demographics was a solid strategy, not often utilised, and tricky to execute well, but incredibly effective if he could pull it off.

A knock on the door told him it was two minutes until show time. He'd arrive with 45 seconds to go. _A gentleman arrives exactly when he intends to, not before, nor after. _With a bit of difficulty, Illias dragged a comb through his curly black hair. Normally it hung unkempt from his head, but every effort had to be made tonight. In District 2, Illias was something of a con. He'd faked his way into the Training Academy using the pseudonym Jericho Deverell, and by the time the lie unravelled he was already a top student, and the Academy was too reluctant to throw him out. Tonight would be his biggest con yet. It wasn't so much that Illias _wasn't _the gentleman he was portraying, but more that in reality, he was much rougher around the edges. Still, this was not what the Capitol wanted from District 2, they wanted class, poise, grandeur, eloquence, and that is what Illias would provide for them. Of course the other Tributes would go on stage and talk about how they trained, and how they are the strongest, fastest, the most skilled, and how they got the highest score in Training, and how they've prepared, and how they can't possibly lose. All of it trivial nonsense. _Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception. _

Illias strutted from his dressing room towards the waiting area to the side of the stage. His stylist was fussing over him nearly being late, his mentor checking that he remembered their _game-plan. _Ilias feigned interest, all the time watching the girl from District 1 giggle and smile and make sure the camera had a good angle on her chest. Ilias was almost sickened by the thought of having to spend the next few days with any of his so-called Allies, still, _needs must. _Adjusting his collar one more time, Illias stepped gracefully onto the stage to greet his host, Caesar Flickerman. The man was decked out in his usual attire, a sparkling suit matching the hair and makeup, all in a colour that Illias was sure to name incorrectly if he even had the interest. A handshake, followed by a wave to the audience and the cameras before taking his seat. No crossed legs or folded arms, Illias maintained a friendly, and open body language. A good start. Caesar's opening questions were always unpredictable, hard to prepare for, but charm and eloquence would always save the day.

"Welcome, welcome!" Caesar took his seat and clasped his hands together, all very theatrical. He waved his left hand towards Ilias, still gazing into the crowd, "Illias Martell everyone, isn't he a handsome young man?" The audience gave a small cheer. They were still in need of warming up. Illias placed a hand on his chest, feigning gratitude.

"I don't think the ladies of the Capitol are quite as taken with me," Illias addressed the audience, "as they are with our most gracious host." Illias waved a hand towards Caesar in return, which garnered a much larger cheer from the Capitol.

"Well," Caesar pretended to be bashful, "they have known me longer."

"I think you also wear a sparkly suit better than I do," the audience broke into a laugh, and Caesar cracked a wide smile, Illias took this as a cue to continue, "I had a conversation with my stylist this afternoon; I was really unsure about this suit, you see I didn't want to try and upstage anyone, or turn up in the same style of outfit. She said to me, don't worry Illias, nobody is using sequins this year." Caesar grimaced, and held out a bedazzled arm.

"She may be in the wrong line of work," Caesar waved a hand as if to say _what can you do?_

"Now, lets put our clash of wardrobe aside for a moment, because these lovely people in the audience want to get to know more about you! Tell us, when your name was pulled from that bowl, and nobody from your District volunteered, something very uncommon in District 2, how did that make you feel?"

"Well, there are a lot of emotions, and a lot of thoughts running through your head when your name gets pulled out of the bowl, and I'm sure it's very different for everyone. For me, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was intending to volunteer, but being Reaped made it much easier, it took away a few butterflies. I enjoy training, I like using weapons and tools, but something I don't like is trying to shout over a mob of people, so this definitely made the whole process easier." Illias gave a very subtle nod of the head to give Caesar his cue to move onto the next question.

"Very intriguing," Caesar leant forward, "So how have things been since you arrived in the Capitol?" His last answer had been quite serious, Illias had to throw the audience off guard now.

"Well, I have never slept so comfortably in all my life." The audience let out a laugh, "I'm very serious," Illias continued, "whomever makes the beds in the Tribute Centre can have a drink on me."

"So, you like the beds here," Caesar laughed, "anything else that you like about the Capitol?"

"I have spotted some very lovely ladies in the Capitol, I must admit. There was a very pretty redheaded woman served me breakfast this morning, really got my day off to a good start."

"Oh, and did this woman give you anything other tea and scones this morning?"

"A gentleman never tells." Illias wagged a finger at Caesar. The host held his hands up in surrender.

"Now, back to a more serious note, how have you been preparing for the Games?"

"Well obviously I can't disclose my strategy," Illias had been expecting this question, it was one designed to throw Tributes off, put chinks in their armour. The key, Illias thought, was to give the audience a little information, so they felt like they were getting an insight into how a Career Tribute prepares for the Games, but only to disclose information that was glaringly obvious to an actual Tribute, "but like a lot of Tributes I've spent some time working the Training Stations, trying a few new things. I've done some cardio work to make sure I'm at peak fitness, and I've eaten vast quantities of doughnuts and pastries, because I won't be seeing them for a while."

"You seem very certain that you'll see them again," Caesar remarked.

"I am," Illias replied coolly.

* * *

**_30 Minutes to Launch…_**

* * *

The sun glistened against the white concrete on the roof of the Tribute building, it was almost blinding to look at. Aphra Maston shielded her eyes and tried to look up as her hovercraft swung into view. In a strange turn of events, each Tribute had been whisked away in their own small hovercraft. Normally, Tributes were transported together, and then placed into holding blocks until it was time to stand on their podiums and rise into the Arena. Whatever hell they were going into this year, they were going into it alone. Aphra wrapped her arms around herself as the hovercraft produced a wicked breeze whilst coming into land. She wasn't even given the time to think about it before she was ushered onto the craft by a Peacekeeper and within moments they were in the air. Aphra had never experienced flying before, and all new sensations rocked her body as she found her balance inside the hovercraft, and became accustomed to the filtered air inside the cabin. As her eyes re-adjusted back to normal, Aphra was able to take in her new surroundings. The inside of the hovercraft was basically a small metal box, a metal bench was bolted to one side of the room, and in the front right corner there was a tube made of black glass. Aphra was still trying to calm her nerves and collect some of her thoughts, but the Peacekeeper standing in the back of the hovercraft broke up her train of thought with a sharp bark.

"Strip," Aphra turned to look at the woman, slightly confused.

"What?"

"Strip. I won't tell you again." Aphra turned her back and faced a fresh wave of humiliation as she removed her clothes in front of another one of the Capitol's Peacekeepers.

"Toss them in, and remove any personal items and place them in here," Aphra awkwardly tried to cover herself, and threw her clothes into a plastic bag the Peacekeeper was holding, and then removed her earrings and placed them into a tub. "Uncross your arms and legs, I need to scan you for concealed weapons," Aphra obeyed with a red face as a scanner ran the length of her. She was caught horribly off guard, and flinched backwards into the wall of her hovercraft as the Peacekeeper grabbed a hose from a hole in the wall and sprayed her down with cool water. After a minute or so of being hosed from top to bottom, Aphra's Peacekeeper threw her a towel and told her to dry off. Aphra ran the towel over her hair a few times, and then wrapped the towel around herself, trying to recover her modesty.

"Your Arena outfit," the Peacekeeper said bluntly, handing over a clear plastic packet with a bundle of black fabric inside. Tucking in her towel, Aphra tore into the packet, laying out her clothes on the bench for inspection. She'd been given a black and red crop top, with a small insignia on the chest, a pair of leggings that finished just below the knee, a strange feeling red belt, and to wear underneath it all she'd been give a skimpy pair of underwear, and a flimsy sports bra that felt too small. _I'm going to be cold, _Aphra thought to herself as she began to get dressed. Of course, she'd already gone over basic strategies with her mentor; _don't light a fire, even if it is freezing cold. The fire will give away your position. Wrap yourself in leaves, find a safe cave, burrow into the ground if you have to, but don't light a fire. _Aphra smoothed out her top with shaky hands. It would soon be time. She took deep breaths, trying to sooth her nerves. She needed to be ready and settled before she arrived into the Arena. She needed to take in her surroundings quickly whilst on her podium, then run, avoid the bloodbath at the Cornucopia, find Rae. _Would Rae honour their Alliance? Could she trust her new found friend? _But Aphra had already made that choice, it was too late to back out from it now. A fresh wave of anxiety washed over her as the stone-faced Peacekeeper spoke again.

"It's time." Aphra's lip quivered as she was guided towards the black tube. There was a small seat on the inside that Aphra was made to sit down on after climbing awkwardly inside, and then a strap was tightened over her legs. "So it's going to work a little differently this year," Aphra's Peacekeeper explained, "you're going to be dropped gently into the arena. It won't hurt, and you'll be quite safe, but you must not leave your seat, understand?" Aphra nodded. _Perfectly safe_ she thought, as if the woman in front of her knew anything about what Aphra was heading into, the horror she was going to have to face. The Peacekeeper laid a hand on her shoulder, Aphra ignored it. What use was it trying to be nice now? "Good luck," the Peacekeeper mumbled. Aphra remained quiet. On the inside of the black glass, a countdown began; _Ten, Nine, Eight, _this is it, _Five, Four, Three, _the Hunger Games are about to begin. As the number one appeared over her head, Aphra stifled a scream, and struggled to breath. She could hear the sound of water sloshing below her, could see light start to seep into the tube as she started to drop. Then it happened. Aphra fell out of the black tube inside her hovercraft, the scream she'd stifled a moment earlier now echoed out across the Arena, and her plan totally unravelled. She was in the Hunger Games.

* * *

**Heyy! **

**Sorry its been such a long time since I've updated. I've been at college, and life in general has just been getting in the way. I hope you understand. I won't dwell on it too much. **

**To make up for lost time, I've fast-forwarded us right to the start of the Games with a series of flashbacks. I hope you've enjoyed them! I will post the missing training scores with the next chapter! **

**I'm not going to ask questions this time around, so please, tell me what you think of the chapter! The usual rules unfortunately still apply; anybody trying to troll, leave reviews full of swearing, or nonsense will get reported. It just saves everyone some hassle.**

**For a huge surprise, visit here! ironheartedgaming . wix under - the - black - flag**

**Also check out my forum!**

**Ok, thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! **

**IronManRidingaNimbus. **


	19. Chapter 19 Under the Black Flag

**19**

**Under the Black Flag**

Azer Chistaen smiled as he slid from his hovercraft and fell into the sea. The Capitol had proven their intelligence once again; the black tubes inside the hovercraft had been carefully designed to conceal what lay beneath them. Azer wasn't sure what to expect as he fell. He didn't like being strapped onto the seat, it wasn't a sound tactic, but he'd learned already that arguing with the Peacekeepers was not a good idea. It came as a pleasant surprise then, when Azer dropped into the sea in a perfectly concealed rowing boat, just like the ones in the Training Arena. Azer hadn't been able to see it in the dark, but his feet were resting on a wooden floor, the sides of the boat had been carefully masked by the dark glass, and the oars had been craftily tucked into the inside of the gunwales*, out of sight. Azer readied the oars in a seamanlike fashion, rested his feet against the transom**, and pulled hard. After a few strong strokes, Azer was cutting through the water at high speed, moving metres at a time. He hadn't even turned to see his target yet, but as he did, Azer's joy reached new heights. He pulled hard, rowing towards a black, three-masted frigate*, with a white stripe painted along the middle of her hull. She had enormous square sails that looked as though they could touch the clouds, bore the flag of the Capitol, and had an intricate maze of rigging that webbed its way around her three masts. After a rough count, Azer guessed the ship had at least forty guns, maybe more. He could do huge damage with them, given the chance.

As Azer got to within 5 metres of the ship, there was a small series of beeps from below. With a final stroke to help him glide towards the boat, Azer looked beneath his seat to find the source of the sound. He'd been so caught up in his excitement at being at sea, that he hadn't even noticed the bomb aboard his rowing boat. A small screen near the bottom of the bomb casing read; DEACTIVATED: 33 SECONDS. Mathematics was not Azer's strong suit, but if he had to guess; he'd say the Tributes were given around a minute to row to the ship. As he turned to view the vessel - which by now was casting a huge shadow over him - he saw a rope drop down from the rails and into his rowboat. Azer tied himself off, and turned to look around at the sea once more before climbing. He spotted Jade from 2 and Jack from 1 both approaching close by. He could have waited, but they were both faster climbers, and on the off chance that one of them did blow up, he didn't want to be hit by any shards of wood that could pierce straight through him. With incredible strength, Azer powered his muscular frame up the side of the ship, taking only seconds to scale all the way up to the railings, before throwing himself onto the deck. The scene before him had only just started to erupt into chaos, so Azer took a moment to survey his new surroundings. Obubu Mabebe stood atop the Cornucopia - a large stack of weapons and supplies just below the main mast - swinging a large a ball and chain above his head, fending off two men in naval uniforms. Marlowe had arrived before him, and she too had taken a pause, but as other men in uniform began to swarm onto the deck from below, the pair sprang into action.

Azer charged towards the Cornucopia, swatting aside two of the men in uniform. Obubu swung wildly with the ball and chain, not getting nearly close enough to actually hit Azer, but he was flailing around enough to cause him some problems whilst he tried to retrieve a weapon. With little other option, Azer ducked beneath the chain and charged at the lumpy boy. With a hard punch, he felt Obubu's nose crack, and the spray of blood that splattered the deck beneath his feet told him he'd landed a very solid hit indeed. Azer could hear Obubu groan from below as he landed a knee, then an elbow, and another knee to the stomach. Any fight that Obubu had had been beaten out of him in swift style. "Stop!" He cried out, his voice hoarse, and out of breath, "We could be partners, you and I! I have money! I have…" Whatever he was going to say next was cut out by a jab to the throat. With a strenuous effort, Azer lifted the 300-plus pound Obubu onto his shoulders and staggered with him to the railing, and then, with an almighty roar, threw him overboard, to the sea below. After a lengthy fall, Obubu hit the water with a deafening thud. He was surely dead. Azer waited for the sound of a cannon, but none arrived. Instead, the water around Obubu's body erupted into a frenzy, and blood stained the sea red as a horrific sea creature leapt from the depths below and tore the boy to pieces. Somewhere in the distance, a red flare pierced the blue sky like a fiery arrow. Perhaps this was the sign of Obubu's death. Azer turned, expecting his allies to have handily taken control of the situation. He was wrong.

* * *

*Gunwales - The upper edge of a boat.

**Transom - A flat surface that forms the stern (back) of a boat.

*Frigate - A light and manoeuvrable three-masted warship used for escorting larger ships, and for patrolling territorial waters. Frigates have a minimum armament of 28 guns.

* * *

Nathan Cole hit the water hard. His boat rocked violently as he fought to keep his balance, and for several seconds he thought he was going to capsize and drown, upside down, strapped into a tiny rowboat, without even making it into the Games properly. After a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Nathan finally managed to steady his tiny boat enough to pull out the oars, and start heading roughly in the direction of the big red ship he'd spotted whilst flailing around. Nathan pulled until he'd got the boat moving somewhat straight, at a nice, steady pace. Nathan could see other Tributes around him, Satin Valentine had just breezed past him, Jonah Abagnale was far behind, unable to get his boat moving. As Nathan watched, he lost track of how far he was from the red ship, and was surprised as the front of his little boat gently bumped into a massive wooden hull. Beneath him, Nathan heard a few loud beeps. Curious, Nathan checked beneath his seat, there was a small light panel that read: DEACTIVATED: 9 SECONDS. It took a moment for Nathan to figure it out, before screaming across the water. "Jonah!"

Too late. After a deafening sound damn near popped his ear drums, Nathan buried his head into his hands and watched through small gaps in his fingers as Jonah's rowboat exploded not 10 metres in front of him. He wanted to cry, to scream, to do _something. _All he could do was rock gently back and forth in his little boat, trying to control his breathing, knowing that he had just witnessed someone _die_, knowing that he himself had only been 9 seconds away from the same fate. Moments later, Nathan was broke from his trance as a thick rope landed in his boat. He knew he had to move, to keep going, to try and _survive. _With a heavy heart, Nathan began hoisting himself up the rope. He lacked the upper body strength of most of the other Tributes, and the ship he was on had already started to get underway by the time he flung himself over the railing.

The scene before him was like something from a nightmare. The deck of the ship was littered with weapons, the air thick with smoke and gunpowder. Tributes cowered behind cannons, boxes, anything that would provide them some kind of cover. Ahead of him, Nathan could see the Cornucopia. A huge stack of weapons piled at the foot of one of the ships masts. Swords, Bows, Axe's, even his personal favourite, the crossbow, was stacked in amongst crates of food, tents, rope, guns, and all other manner of things Nathan couldn't even name, and it was totally unguarded. Off to his left, Satin Valentine was wielding a sword, trying to fend off two men in bandanas. Amber-Rose stood at the bow of the ship, shakily pointing a gun at another man, but it was clear she wouldn't fire it. Why were there all these men out to attack them? _The ships crew _Nathan thought. They were supposed to take over the ship! Nathan didn't want to die at the Cornucopia, not like all the other Tributes from his District, not so _easily. _But it was unguarded, and his allies needed help. It was time to make a decision. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Nathan remembered what Garret had said to him during training. _You have to want it. _Mustering all of his courage, Nathan charged the Cornucopia, completely ignoring his game-plan. In seconds Nathan had scooped up an elegant silver crossbow and jumped clear of the Cornucopia. One of the ships crew charged towards him, and Nathan anxiously pulled the trigger, nearly losing his grip on the weapon as it kicked. The crew member stumbled, and Nathan gripped the weapon properly, this time firing a proper shot. The crew member fell, but he was quickly replaced by another one from below. Growing in confidence, Nathan fired two bolts from his crossbow, before charging the crewman and knocking him on his back.

Nathan fired bravely as the Tributes were increasingly overwhelmed. Somewhere behind him, Nathan heard what could only be described as a war cry, and turned to see Persephone from District 7 clearing house. She ducked and weaved, landing bone-crunching punches, and slicing with a pair of knives. Nathan stood in awe as she tore apart 4 men with relative ease, and that was the biggest mistake he would ever make. Persephone wasn't their ally, she was a Career, maybe the best one out of the bunch, and Nathan had stood still like an idiot, instead of running like hell in the opposite direction. As Nathan saw Persephone's knife leave her hand, his entire life passed before his eyes. His Mother and Sister back in District 11, the longing for a Father he'd never known. His best friend, Blaze Nash, who'd given him the courage to stand up to the bullies that had made his life miserable. He'd fallen in love with Blaze, but never plucked up the courage to tell him. Too late now. Persephone's knife struck him right between the eyes. In an instant, the world went black.

* * *

Calliope Mayfonte sat impatiently in a jail cell aboard an enormous ship. Her wrists were shackled, and she lay on an uncomfortable wooden bunk inside a small metal cell, her District partner, Dylan, lay in the bunk opposite with a terrified expression on his face. So weak-minded. After the initial scramble for weapons and supplies, all of the Tributes had been overpowered and subdued by men wearing uniforms with the Panem crest on the lapel, claiming to be sailors from the 'Panem Navy'. Imposters or not, the Tributes were taken below and locked in cells, District by District. At first, the Tributes had been silent, taken completely off guard by their predicament. Now there was a lot of muttering between the cells, silent planning, whispers of conspiracy and treason.

"But there's never been anyone else _but _the Tributes in any of the Games," Jack from District 1 was quite keen on solving their predicament. Calliope let them prattle on about it. Some of them recalled a previous Games where a rogue construction worker had hidden inside the arena - a giant castle with moving staircases and a dark forest that sat along the bank of a freezing lake - and had been quite handily killed by the girl from 2.

"Well, they sure seem very organised, and well attired for a group of rebels trying to sabotage the Games," the boy from 2 tried to reason. Sensing that the conversation would become an endless circle, Calliope decided to cut in.

"They're animatronic." The Tributes from the other cells turned to look at her.

"What?" Judith asked in her annoying, giggly voice.

"The crew of the ship, they're animatronic. You know, kinda like robots. They used animatronic dolls in the 48th Games, a factory in 3 helped to produce the tech."

"Well, how do we beat them?," Jack asked with some urgency, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in jail."

"All of the weapons up there have rubber handles, they'll protect you from getting electrocuted, try stabbing them. Honestly though, I don't think we're _supposed_ to beat them. They might be animatronic, but they have an AI that's smart as hell, and if they can overpower you guys _even when_ you take them by surprise, then do you really expect to break out of here and be able to take them on again and win?"

"So we're supposed to just wait?" he replied. Any reply Calliope would've came back with, was swiftly cut off by a door opening from the back of the ship. A broad shouldered, dark haired man with an air of importance - even if he was an AI - strode into the room to address the cells.

"Good afternoon. I am Captain Samuel Nicholson, this fine vessel is the Panem Constitution, flagship of our navy. My apologies for holding you in these cells, but the Constitution does not allow unregistered stowaways above decks. However, after a search of your rowing boats, we have found your papers, and the First Mate** and I have agreed to release you from these cells." A sigh of relief echoed around the cells. "In just a moment, you'll be escorted to the crew mess* where our chef has prepared a light meal." The next few moments were a blur as Calliope's cell door was unlocked and the tough shackles that calloused her wrists were finally unbuckled. Things were all going quite smoothly until the cell doors for District 4 were unlocked. Marlowe was escorted out, but one of the officers stopped Azer before he could move from his bunk.

"You will remain here. Seven members of the crew witnessed you murder a fellow refugee. You will stand trial at the Imperial Dockyards, and if found guilty, you will _hang _for murder." There were shocked murmurs as the Tributes were ushered quickly out of the brig*, Azer's protests echoing throughout the ship.

After ascending two steep flights of stairs, Calliope found herself sat at a long dining table below the main deck. The feast presented to them was good, very good. It certainly wasn't near the standard of the posh food that the Capitol had provided them before, but it tasted more like a 'home-cooked' meal, and Calliope liked that. She even enjoyed the gentle rocking of the ship, although it was making her feel slightly drowsy. What she didn't enjoy was the company. Calliope had deliberately sat at the far end of the table, hoping that people would take the hint and leave her well alone, but the giggly bimbo from 1 had plonked herself uncomfortably close her. For the most part, Calliope made a point of eating in silence. Around halfway through a roast chicken, the Captain returned to ask them a few questions; if they were enjoying the meal, whether anyone had felt seasick, general small talk. Finally, he got to the elephant in the room.

"So tell me, how did all of you end up out her in the middle of the West Indies Sea?" Nobody jumped forward with an answer. Calliope had to hold back a laugh. For a week, she'd been preparing for a completely different Games. She'd planned to run, hide out, build weapons, _survive_. Yet, here she was, sitting down to a cooked meal, on board a Naval Warship, nearly touching thighs with one of the Careers, whom had decided to answer on their behalf.

"Well Sir, our own boat sank a few miles from here. We just managed to get into the lifeboats in time," Judith's improvisation skills were impeccable, Calliope had to give her that much.

"Oh, you must've gotten caught in the storm last night. We managed to outrun it whilst chasing down a pirate vessel in the early hours. She must have been quite the vessel to be carrying so many lifeboats on board." There was a growing tension amongst the Tributes as the Captains statements risked exposing their lie, but for her part, Judith took it in her stride.

"Oh she was sir, in fact, many of our friends are still missing!" Judith spurred some urgency into her voice, but the word _friends _had rung a different note in the minds of the Tributes. Districts 7 through 12 had still not been seen nor heard, and the Careers would be intent on finding them before long. "We got separated in the storm last night after getting into our lifeboats. We would've gone looking for them, but we spotted your ship in the distance and had hoped that a vessel with the correct resources would be able to help us. Unfortunately…" Judith gazed into the distance for a moment, false tears shining in her eyes, "Poor Azer, he's been so ill lately. A fever had swept the island we've sailed from. We thought we were all fine, until Azer started to show symptoms last night, and then…" Judith sobbed into her hands. She really knew how to lay it on thick.

"I'm dreadfully sorry ma'am," the Captain laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, "Caribbean Fever has destroyed the best of men. I shall have my men prepare quarters for you immediately. We should arrive at the Imperial Dockyards tomorrow. We will take on supplies, assign you proper documents and have you all given the best medical care available, before we set out and look for your remaining crew."

"Thank you sir, bless you." Judith sobbed. After a short while, the Captain retired from the crew mess to resume command of the ship, leaving the Tributes alone in the crew mess. The Careers applauded Judith's acting and quick thinking, and before long, the conversation was buzzing across the table. _What had happened to the other Tributes? Would Azer really be hung? Should they save him, or leave him to his fate, making the Games a little easier for themselves? _Calliope milled these questions over in her head, but her thoughts were interrupted by a light nudge under the table from Judith. Calliope looked down, frightened that the Career was about to start a fight that Calliope wouldn't come out on the winning side of, but instead, Judith passed her a note scribbled onto a piece of cloth, with a small knife tucked inside.

**_They want you to join us when we leave the ship. Prove that you're worth it._**

* * *

The fighting had not stopped since Persephone had got on board. From the moment she had flung herself over the railing and dashed towards the Cornucopia to take her pick of the available weapons, Persephone had been in a fight. Not everything had gone to plan; her allies were nowhere to be found, and the appearance of the strange men in bandanas had skewed her plans somewhat. But beggars can't be choosers, and so Persephone had spent the next few minutes slicing down everything in her path. So far, she'd killed seven of the crew on board the ship, and one Tribute, the boy from 11. She knew this wasn't a good ratio though, and she surveyed the deck of the ship with her piercing blue eyes for potential targets. Most of the Tributes had had the sense to hide fairly quickly, with only a couple left fighting off the crew. But they were too far for Persephone to reach just yet. There was, however, a boy climbing the mast ladders that run upwards from the ships railing. Not wanting to lose one of her knives, but seeing little other opportunities, Persephone threw her blade straight for the ladder, which sliced through some of the ropes holding it together, before embedding itself in the boys shoulder. The cries of pain helped Persephone to recognise the voice of her District partner, Errol.

_Nice kid, _Persephone thought, _a real shame. _Errol had never really been on Persephone's radar before the Reaping. She'd gotten to know him a little in their dorm, and he did always seem a nice kid, and quite a daredevil when he wanted to be. Persephone had seen him do quite a few risky stunts from the top of the assault course in the Training Room, even bringing her to question him why he was doing somersaults from 20 feet in the air. _For fun, _he'd responded, _what else do we have to lose? _Not exactly warrior mentality, but he'd been a source of light entertainment for the Careers. Finally having a moment free of crew members - perhaps they'd seen her cut several of them to pieces - Persephone walked over to Errol, who was know dangling upside down, tangled in the cut ropes, struggling anxiously to try and get himself free.

"I'm sorry Errol," Persephone called out as she stood up on the ships railing, "I didn't think it would be so soon for you." Errol struggled like an insect caught in a spiders web; ultimately useless, but you cant fault them for trying.

"Please," he was sobbing. His words came in between big gulps, and his eyes burned with fear, "Persephone, please," he begged, "We're partners, from back home, from 11. Please don't kill me, please!" Errol let out another cry of pain as Persephone wrenched the knife from his shoulder. She wouldn't be losing it after all. "Persephone, please, just cut me loose, please! I thought we were friends, Persephone! Please, just cut me loose please!"

"Okay," Persephone obliged, cutting the remaining strands of rope that held the ladder together. Errol screamed as he crashed off the railing, and fell over the side of the ship, now dangling precariously above the water. Errol let out another, far more terrified scream from below. "What?" Persephone laughed, "I cut you loose, just like you asked, don't tell me you're scared of the sea?" Persephone's goading was cut off by an almighty roar from the depths of the ocean, and Errol's screams were cut out forever as a horrifying monster leapt from the water and grabbed hold of his body like a fish biting a hook. Persephone had to stifle a scream of her own after seeing the creature. It was like something from a nightmare. It had light green skin, dark, reptilian eyes, and had the make-up of an animal caught somewhere between a shark, and a T-rex. It's powerful jaws clamped into Errol, pitching the boat violently to one side as it strained against the remains of the rope ladder. Just as Persephone thought the whole ship might roll over, something much worse happened, Errol got ripped in half.

Persephone had to look away as the scene grew ever more gruesome. Blood had stained the water crimson, the ship was rocking from side to side with such a horrible motion that Persephone was very nearly sick. The worst part though, was that Errol's… _remains _still hung limp over the side of the ship, the bottom of half of his body still tangled in the ladder that she'd cut free. _I should have stabbed him, _Persephone thought, _given him a more noble death. Now his family have nothing left to bury. _Persephone was suddenly snapped back to attention when a set of double doors behind the wheel of the ship were kicked open with an almighty bang. The most terrifying man she'd ever laid eyes on stepped through them.

He stood around 6 feet tall, he was muscular, not the kind of muscular that screamed _hey, look at how much I work out, _but the kind of muscular that quietly said, _I've fought every man who has crossed my path. _He wore a large and expensive coat, tough leather boots, and a large-brimmed hat with a feather in the cap. He was obviously the Captain. The air of superiority, the sudden, quiet, fear that had broken out over the ship, and the cold gaze he cast over the decks had revealed this easily enough. But none of this scared Persephone; she'd seen flashes of this in other people before. What scared her was the cold, lifeless eyes that bore into her soul. The rugged features of his face, the scars on his cheeks. But most of all, it was the jet black beard, long, bushy, and loaded with slow-burning wicks that emitted an awful smoke. "I don't know," the Captain's voice was rough, loud, and menacing, "what in the devil you think yer doing on my ship. But that," he pointed a bulging arm over the side of the ship, where Errol had been killed, "was _fucking spectacular!" _The ship remained terrifyingly silent, until one crew member weakly spoke up.

"Stowaways Cap'n, been tryin' to overthrow the ship sir. This girl 'ere, killed seven sir," the crewman was pointed to Persephone. _Excellent. _

"Seven!," the Captain exclaimed roughly, "by God men, have ye got no fight in ye? Anymore O' you drop like flies and I'll have no damn crew left!"

"She murdered two of the stowaways as well sir." the Captain pulled a pistol from his belt and levelled it at Persephone. She he threw her hands in the air, and dropped her knives on the deck. She had no defence against a bullet, none at all. For the first time since entering the Games, panic had started creeping into Persephone's chest, and it was creeping in thick and fast.

"Please," she exclaimed, trying her best not to sound weak, "I didn't know what to do. I boarded the ship hoping to find my friends. We're lost. Your crew attacked me, I didn't know how else to react," The Captains gun was still trained on Persephone, and for a moment he seemed to consider simply shooting her and being done with it.

"Carrick," he bellowed, "put a rope on this lass and stick her in the brig!"

"But sir, she killed…" the Captain turned his gun and fired into the chest of the man who had spoken up, the smell of gunpowder wafted across the decks, and Persephone shook with fear as the bang echoed out across the water. No-one made any move to dispose of his body.

"To the brig." Persephone didn't resist as another crew member tied her wrists, and roughly escorted her below decks and into a small holding cell. It contained only a wooden bench and a small bucket. After the crew member locked the cell and scurried above decks, Persephone vomited her anxiety into the bucket. Her first night was going to be rough.

* * *

Above decks, the Captain surveyed the terrified crew and the stowaways, most of them young and fearful, some a little more mature and reserved. He gazed out at the horizon, contemplating his next move, when a set of white sails caught his eye. "Hoist the black!" He bellowed.

"Yes sir," one of his loyal crew rushed to the stern to raise the ships flag. Another shuffled nervously towards the bottom of the steps beneath him.

"Sir, what shall we do with the rest of the stowaways?"

"Did they kill anyone else?" The crewman shook his head, "then put them to work. I want full sail on the beam. Tops, Royals, the lot!"

"You want us to work for you?" One of the stowaways quizzed, "We don't even know where we are, or where we're going!"

"What be your name missy?"

"Satin Valentine."

"Well miss Valentine," the Captain gestured around the ship, "Ye be aboard the _Queen Anne's Revenge, _a mighty fine ship if I do say so. Ye may call me Captain, Sir, or _Blackbeard. _We'll get to where we're goin' once we get there, but for now, there are sails on the horizon, so we be heading out to send the King's finest to their graves. Now tell me missy, can you sail as part of my crew? Can you stand against the Navy? Can you serve _Under the Black Flag?_

* * *

**Crew Mess*** - A common area on a ship where the crew eat, drink, and socialise when off-duty.

**First mate**** - Sometimes referred to as the Chief Mate, (Or Quarter-Master on Pirate Vessels) the First Mate is second to the Captain, and aside from many important roles on board, acts as a liaison between Captain and Crew.

**Brig*** - The Brig on board a ship is most commonly where prisoners are held for transport to prison, trials, or in some cases, the noose. Not to be confused with the type of sailing vessel which bears the same name.

* * *

**A/n:**

**Heyy guys!**

**We've finally reached the start of the Games! Sorry for the slow progress, I've just been busy with work etc... I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter! Sorry to those whose Tributes who haven't made it past this stage. I picked my winner, and then put the rest of the Tributes into a randomiser machine to get the death order, so there's no playing favourites, and it's given me a good writing challenge! I don't want to do eulogies because they take a while, and I really think they are unnecessary. However, if you do want to talk to me about the story then hit me up with a PM, or on my forum, Hogwarts Catching Fire! **

**If you guys would like to review with your thoughts on the chapter/Arena/Deaths etc... then I'd be very grateful to hear your thoughts! **

**Thanks again, **

**Iron Man.**

**PS. TribuTrack is now open on my website! **


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